


Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged

by FanficAllergy, RoseFyre



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blackmail, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Forced Prostitution, In Panem AU, No really this is a slow build, Original Characters doing horrible things, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Prostitution, Sexual Coercion, Slow Build, Tags Contain Spoilers, Tumblr: promptsinpanem, be prepared for lots of angst, we mean it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:20:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 52,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FanficAllergy/pseuds/FanficAllergy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoseFyre/pseuds/RoseFyre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After her father dies of black lung disease, Katniss is forced to do the unthinkable in order to keep her younger siblings alive and all of them out of the community home.  Now, with the unexpected help of the baker's youngest son, she has to figure out how to go from just surviving to thriving in poverty-stricken Twelve.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. No One Saves Us But Ourselves

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: The Hunger Games Trilogy is property of Suzanne Collins. This is a parody fanwork by fans for fans. No money was made off of the creation of this fanwork.

** **

 

**oOo**

 

_“You are damaged and broken and unhinged. But so are shooting stars and comets.”_

_― Nikita Gill_

 

**oOo**

 

Chapter One:  No One Saves Us But Ourselves

 

**oOo**

_No one saves us but ourselves. No one can and no one may. We ourselves must walk the path._

_\-- Buddha_

 

**oOo**

 

“Katniss, you don’t need to do this.”

 

I ignore Prim and continue pulling on the faded blue dress, an old remnant of my mother’s merchant days.  It’s not heavy enough for the middle of winter, but it’s the nicest thing we have.  Part of me doesn’t want to wear something this nice where I have to go, but I can’t take the chance I’ll be overlooked.

 

My sister doesn’t let up.  “Please, Katniss.  Listen to me!  Don’t go.”

 

“I have to, Prim.”  

 

I don’t bother turning around.  I know what I’ll see.  My little sister with the hollows of her cheeks becoming more and more pronounced.  Nestled in her arms is my baby brother Aven.  His once chubby baby fat has melted away in the last few months.  I can hear the toddler sucking greedily on one of the bones from the scrawny rabbit I managed to trap a week ago.  

 

I haven’t caught anything since, and I won’t get tesserae rations again for another week.  That’s too long to wait.  All we have in the house is a few mint leaves.  If it were just me and Prim, we might have be able to manage.  But with my mother still out of it after my father’s death two months ago, there hasn’t been any money to feed Aven.  He’s too young to understand he needs to go without.  Not to mention, he can’t.

 

I smooth the skirt down before turning to face them.  “How do I look?” I ask.

 

“Like you’re about to go to the Reaping,” Prim tells me bluntly.  “Please, Katniss, don’t do this.  I’ll take out tesserae!  My birthday’s in two weeks.  I’ll be old enough then.  We’ll make it!  Maybe you’ll get another rabbit, or, or--”

 

I hold up a hand to stop her.  “Or what?  Someone will throw me a loaf of bread just because they’re feeling generous?”  I shake my head at the absurdity of the idea.  “Please, this is Panem.  This is Twelve.  No one’s got food to spare.  And no one’s got money.”  I pause, lowering my voice.  “Other than the Peacekeepers.”

 

“Well maybe we can sell some of Mom’s old clothes!  Or Dad’s.  It’s not like he’s going to wear them!   We can sell them.”

 

“It won’t be enough, Prim.  It might get us through this month, but what about next?  Or the month after that?”

 

“But that’s what the tesserae’s for!”

 

I slam my hands down onto the dresser.  “I said no, Prim.  I promised Dad I’d keep you and Aven safe, and I will.”

 

“But I’m sure Dad didn’t mean this.  What would he say if he found out that you’re… that you’re about to…”

 

“Say it, Prim.”  

 

“That you’re about to sell yourself to Cray.”

 

I sigh.  “I don’t know what he’d say, but he’s not here.  He’s dead and Mom’s heading there.”  I take a deep, steadying, breath.  “Look, I’ve got to go.  Take care of Aven and… keep an eye on Mom.  We don’t want to end up in the Community Home.”

 

“I don’t know,” Prim says, narrowing her eyes.  “The Community Home would be better than this!”

 

I shake my head.  “No.  It wouldn’t.  Everyone takes out tesserae in the Home.”  My voice grows hard.  “Everyone.  It’s my choice to take them out for you, but if I can keep you and Aven from having to, I’m gonna.”

 

“It’s just… there’s gotta be something else we can do.”  Prim’s eyes fill with tears.

 

“There isn’t.  It’s too cold to hunt.  We’ve got nothing to sell.  We’ve got no money.”

 

“What about Mom’s family?” Prim asks hopefully.

 

“No,” I say, shaking my head.  “We’re Everdeens.  We don’t take charity.”  I pause, thinking of my maternal grandparents.  “Besides, it’s not like they’ve been there for us before.  Why would they start now?”

 

“But Cray!”

 

“I know, Little Duck.  I know.”  I wrap my arms around my siblings, breathing in Aven’s little boy smell and stroking Prim’s hair.  “But what else can we do?”

 

**oOo**

 

I walk toward town, my mother’s shawl draped over my head, another shawl wrapped around my shoulders.  I don’t want anyone to recognize me, and my preferred winter coat, the hand-me-down hunting jacket from my father, is too recognizable.

 

I try to keep to the shadows, so even if someone does spot me, they won’t see my face.  I can’t take the chance someone might see me and realize the reason for my desperation.  It wouldn’t do to go this far and end up in the Community Home all the same.

 

As my boots crunch through the snow, I think about how I ended up in this situation.  It’s not like I planned this.  But it’s funny how life turned out.

 

We almost lost my father to an explosion when I was eleven.  If it hadn’t been for my mother telling my father she was pregnant with my baby brother, we would have.  He was late to work and while his boss was chewing him out, the rest of his crew died in a firedamp explosion.  I owe my brother almost four more years of my father’s life.  Without him, Dad would’ve died back then and, without tesserae, I don’t know how we would’ve made it.  Prim and I probably would’ve ended up in the Community Home, and it’s possible, even likely, that my mother would’ve lost the baby.  

 

Those years were everything to me.  My father taught me how to hunt and trap animals in the woods and introduced me to several of the traders in the Hob.  In the last year, he even started taking Prim out with us, and while she’s not as good of a hunter as me, she’s still pretty proficient with a bow.  But her real gift is for tracking prey.  I may be the best shot, but Prim’s the best tracker.

 

We were lucky.  We were happy.

 

Both ran out the day my father was diagnosed with blacklung.  I don’t know why it came as such a shock; it’s not like this is uncommon.  Most miners end up dying of blacklung, if an explosion doesn’t kill them first.

 

This year has been hard on us.  My father wasn’t able to go out hunting as often as we hoped.  We pretty much used up all of our stores when my father was sick, and because he was fired from the mines for missing too many days of work, we didn’t even get death benefits when he finally succumbed to his illness.  In fact, for the last month before my father died, we were surviving on what little my mother could bring in from healing.

 

I signed up for tesserae for the first time while my father was still alive.  I hated seeing the sadness on his face when he found out, but he understood.  He had to take out tesserae too, when he was a boy, and he wasn’t the only one.  Pretty much every kid in the Seam takes out tesserae, and even a few merchants.  But Twelve is a poor district and tesserae rations aren’t nearly enough to feed a family for a full month.  So without another source of income, people turn to other means in order to not starve.

 

One of the most common is prostitution.  

 

Prostitution is legal, unlike hunting or trapping, so many men and women turn to it in times of need.  It’s well-known that, in addition to a love of turkey, the Head Peacekeeper, Cray, likes women.  Especially young women.  But he’s not as bad as some.  He won’t sleep with a twelve year old even though it’s technically legal.  You’re considered an adult when you reach Reaping age, even though the mines won’t hire anyone until they’ve survived their last Reaping.  Cray won’t sleep with with girls that young, but he will buy older girls and women.  So Seam girls, starving and desperate, often line up at his door, willing to sell their bodies for a few coins.  

 

And now I’m about to become one of them.

 

As I walk, I glance around at the various shops and merchant homes in the fading light.  If I had been able to get into the woods, I might have had a rabbit, or a turkey that I could trade for coin to buy more food than the animal itself would provide.  I could even barter a squirrel for bread.  My father showed me that the baker always paid well for his squirrels.  He used to bring home a bag of day-old rolls and the occasional cheese bun for special occasions.  My mouth waters just thinking about it.

 

I wish, when times were good, my parents would’ve bought a goat or some chickens, because then we might have something.  But my father never really thought that far ahead, and my mother was even worse.  I don’t know why she would leave a comfortable merchant life to come live in the Seam.  Not even love is worth starvation.  Not to me.  

 

Out of the corner of my eye, I catch sight of the Apothecary.  My grandparents are long dead, but my mother’s brother, my uncle I guess, still lives there.  Prim’s words come back to me.  Maybe they would help us.  I don’t like asking for help.  It’s not the Seam way.  But for Prim and Aven, who both look so much like merchants themselves, I’m willing to give it a try.

 

Squaring my shoulders, I stomp the snow off my boots and walk into the shop, a little bell jingling when I open the door.

 

The woman my uncle married comes out and when she sees me, the smile drops from her lips.  “What are you doing here?”

 

“Um, my mother - I’m Kat--”

 

“I know who you are,” she cuts me off, her voice unfriendly.  “You’re that woman’s spawn.”

 

“Um, please--”

 

The woman’s eyes narrow.  “Oh, you’re here to ask for money.  Well, let me give you a word of advice, missy,” she hisses.  “We don’t want anything to do with your kind.  Your mother ran away from her duties, so we’ve got no obligation to help you.”

 

I don’t bother trying to beg anymore.  It’s clear I won’t get anything here.

 

I leave the store, trying to fight back the tears threatening to overwhelm me.  They were my last hope.

 

Now I really have no other choice.

 

I take a deep breath and slide my hands across my eyes.  It wouldn’t do to go to Cray looking even more desperate than I already am.  I know from the gossip at the Hob that Cray will pay more if you’re a virgin, and still more if he doesn’t think you need the money.  I have to do this right.  For Prim.  For Aven.

 

I make my way through the town to Cray’s home.  I let out a relieved sigh.  There’s no one here yet.  I’m the first.  I slip around back and knock, no need to advertise my visit at the front door.  A drop of cold water from an icicle overhead hits the back of my neck and I shiver.  I can do this.  I have to.

 

The door opens a bit later and I see the old Peacekeeper looking down at me.  “You got a turkey for me, girl?”

 

I shake my head.  

 

His eyes narrow.  “Then what are you doing here?”

 

I look up at him and force myself to smile.  “I was wondering if I might interest you in some companionship for tonight.”

 

Cray’s whole posture changes.  He leans forward and wraps his arm around my shoulders.  “Well, well, well.  So you finally got off that high horse of yours and came around to good sense.”

 

I struggle not to cringe when he touches the side of my face.  I have no idea what he’s talking about, but I nod anyway.

 

“Are you a virgin, girl?”

 

I nod again.

 

“I think we can come to an arrangement.”  He smiles at me with an expression that makes my stomach churn.  “Why don’t you come in and close the door?  We’ll talk price, get to know each other better, and ring in the new year.”

 

Taking one last glance at the setting sun, I take a deep breath and do as he asks, shutting the door on my past.

 

**oOo**

 

Pale streaks of orange stain the eastern sky when I leave Cray’s the following morning.  I don’t know what I expected, but one thing I didn’t count on was him asking me to stay the night and offering to pay me extra to do so.  Of course I said yes.  Five extra coin will go a long way.

 

When he paid me this morning, slipping twenty five coins into my hand, he also pulled out a paper bag and slipped a few cans of food into it.  “You’re looking a little scrawny, girl,” he told me, eyeing me with what I think was concern.  “I like my girls to have a little more meat on ‘em.”

 

I wanted to tell him no, to keep his damned Capitol food, but I didn’t.  For Prim and Aven’s sake, I decided it was just another part of the payment for services rendered.

 

I walk toward home.  I’m tired.  I didn’t sleep but a few winks last night.  Cray wanted to hold me after, and as much as I wanted to leave, I couldn’t, not until I got paid.  All I want now is a bath and my own bed.

 

But I need to stop someplace first.

 

The bakery isn’t open yet, but I can hear the sounds of the baker and his family moving around inside.  The smell of freshly baked bread wafts through one of the slightly cracked windows, causing my stomach to growl.  As much as I would love to buy a loaf of freshly baked bread, I know my coin will go further if I buy the day-old loaves.  They’re always put out first thing in the morning and they go fast.  I can’t afford to miss my chance.

 

One thing my father always taught me was, if possible, go around to the back door and deal with the baker himself rather than his wife.  The wife mans the front counter during the day, while the baker stays in back.  Mrs. Mellark hates anyone from the Seam, so she tends to raise prices in order to keep us away, while Mr. Mellark is more honest and often slips in broken cookies he saved or a few extra rolls when he thinks his wife won’t notice.

 

As much as I want to stand on the back porch, I know it’s not a good idea.  Mrs. Mellark could see me, and that’d ruin my chances of getting a good deal.  So I slip across the street and find a slightly cleared patch of dirty snow against a bare apple tree.  I lean against the tree wearily.  

 

I can’t believe I did this.

 

I had to.

 

It was awful and I never want to do it again.  Ever.

 

I feel the wind whip at my cheeks and realize I’ve been crying.  I scrub at my eyes with my hand, wishing I’d thought to bring a handkerchief.

 

I wonder how much longer until the bakery opens.  It’s got to be soon.

 

Pulling out the money Cray gave me, I count it out.  Twenty five coin.  It’s more money than I’ve seen in a long time, about one week’s pay for work in the mines.  But it’s not going to go very far.  If I’m careful, I can maybe make it last two weeks, and while I’ll be able to get my tesserae rations in a week, that’s not enough to feed a family of four.

 

I come to a horrible conclusion.  I’m going to have to do this again.  Or else Prim’s got to take out tesserae.

 

I can’t let her do that.  I promised my father I wouldn’t, and I need to keep that promise.

 

I put all but one coin back in my pocket.  I don’t want to let anyone see how much money I have.  I’m not afraid of being robbed, but I don’t want to be taken advantage of just because I have coin instead of something to trade.  Also, everyone knows what this much coin means, and I can’t risk someone reporting me to the Capitol representative.  She’d send someone out to investigate and they’d find my mother.  We’d end up in the Community Home for sure.

 

The back door to the bakery opens, distracting me from my thoughts. I see the baker’s youngest son heading towards the pigs, an old flour sack filled with something in his hand and a few burnt loaves underneath his arm.

 

I don’t think I make any noise, but something makes him start.  He whirls, his eyes meeting mine in shock.

 

We stand like that for several moments.  He’s dressed in a tight white t-shirt and faded jeans, a dirty white apron wrapped around his waist.  I never realized just how muscular he was.  Yeah, I’ve seen him hoisting hundred pound bags of flour around like it was nothing, but now, with most of his arms bare, I can see the muscles straining under the thin fabric of his shirt.  I don’t know why I’ve only just noticed this.

 

“Katniss?” he says, like he’s not sure it’s really me.

 

I brush away my tears and lift my chin defiantly.  “Yeah.”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“What does it look like?”

 

He takes a few hesitant steps forward.  “Are you okay?”

 

I refuse to answer that question.  Instead I ask, “What time do you open?”

 

He pulls out a pocket watch and checks.  “Fifteen minutes.”

 

I shiver.  The snow’s starting to seep through the thin leather of my boots and my legs feel frozen underneath my dress.  I wish I’d worn pants, but I wasn’t sure what Cray would like.

 

“Katniss…”  He takes a few more steps.  “You’re crying.”

 

“It’s none of your business.”  Why doesn’t he go back inside?  Why can’t he leave me alone?  I’m just here for some bread.  I don’t need pity or, worse, mockery.

 

“Did somebody hurt you?”  I see his eyes narrow as he takes in my appearance.  

 

My dress hangs loosely on my body and the thin fabric tore when Cray undressed me hurriedly.  To his credit, the old Peacekeeper did his best not to hurt me, but my mother’s dress was old and worn and unfortunately couldn’t stand up to his attentions.

 

I can tell the baker’s son sees it, because his eyes widen.  “No, please Katniss, no.”

 

“I said it’s none of your business.”

 

“Why?  Why did you go to him?”

 

There’s only one reason girls go to Cray.  He should know that.  I’m not going to say it out loud.  I can’t.  Instead, the enormity of what’s happened crashes down on me and I’m unable to stop the tears from overflowing.

 

“I’m sorry, Katniss, I’m, I’m…”  He thrusts the things in his arms at me.  “You take this.”

 

“I’ve got money,” I whisper brokenly.

 

He shakes his head.  “No, no these aren’t good enough to sell.  I mean, I was gonna give them to the pigs anyway.  I can’t take your money for pig slop.”

 

“I don’t need charity.”

 

“Please, Katniss.  Let me help you.”

 

“Why are you doing this, Peeta?”

 

He freezes when I say his name.  “I… I… I can’t tell you.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I should think it’s obvious!”

 

“Well it’s not!” I counter.  “You don’t even know me, why are you trying to help me?”

 

“Because I want to.  I need to.  I need to do something.  Please.”  He pushes the bread at me.  “Please let me.”

 

I take it, trying to give him the coin in my hands.  

 

He pushes the money away.  “I’m gonna fix this.  You won’t have to go to him again,” he tells me earnestly, his eyes pleading with me.  “I promise.”

 

“It’s none of your concern.”

 

“It is my concern.  I need to do this, Katniss.  Please.  I’ll fix this.  I’ll make it better.”

 

I give him a look.  “How?”

 

“I don’t know.  I’ll think of something.  Just give me a little time.  Please.  Don’t go to Cray again.”  

 

I shrug noncommittally, I don’t want to go to Cray again but I will if I have to.  

 

Peeta takes my silence for acceptance.  “Trust me.  I’ll find something.”  He shakes his head and laughs bitterly.  “At least one good thing came of this.”

 

I narrow my eyes.  “What?”

 

“I finally worked up the courage to talk to you.”

 

**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:Written: 9/18/15  
>  Revised: 9/24/15  
>  Betaread by: amelinazenitram
> 
> This was written for Prompts in Panem.
> 
> So we're headcanoning that signing up for tesserae constitutes a legal and binding contract. In the U.S. you cannot enter into a contract if you are under the age of majority which is eighteen for most things. So in the Districts in Panem, twelve is the age of majority. Twelve year olds can get jobs, sell goods and services, enter into contracts, and get married. However, just like in the U.S. there are some exceptions that you have to be older than twelve to do: get government provided housing, work in the mines, or live by yourself without some kind of working age adult. Canon supports this in that Katniss signs up for tesserae without ever having a parent involved. Same with Rory later. No one bats an eye when Katniss and Peeta announce they've gotten married at seventeen. While being a Victor could be an exception to any of these (especially living alone - Haymitch, Johanna, and Peeta all do after their Games), we don't know. So we're going to play. ^_^
> 
> Right now this going to stand on its own. We may choose to continue this universe later if people are interested.
> 
> We hope you enjoyed! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Please leave a comment letting us know what you think!


	2. Just Feed One

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ “I don’t know.  I’ll think of something.  Just give me a little time.  Please.  Don’t go to Cray again.”   _

 

_ I shrug noncommittally, I don’t want to go to Cray again but I will if I have to.   _

 

_ Peeta takes my silence for acceptance.  “Trust me.  I’ll find something.”  He shakes his head and laughs bitterly.  “At least one good thing came of this.” _

 

_ I narrow my eyes.  “What?” _

 

_ “I finally worked up the courage to talk to you.” _

 

**oOo**

 

Chapter Two: Feed Just One

 

**oOo**

 

_ “If you can’t feed a hundred people, then feed just one.”  _

_ ― Mother Teresa _

 

**oOo**

 

I stare at the baker’s youngest son in shock.  My mouth opens and closes, but no words come out.

 

“Please, Katniss, just take the bread,” he says again.  He folds my hand closed over the coin I’m still holding out.  “I want you to have it.”

 

I stare at him, trying to say something, anything.  But I can’t.  I can’t even say thank you.  All I can do is flee.  My cheeks flaming, I run all the way back to my house.  I think I hear him call my name, but I don’t stop.  I don’t want him to see me cry.

 

I feel the tears threatening to overwhelm me and I dash at them angrily.  Why couldn’t I say thank you?  Why was it so hard?  He was trying to help me.  He did help me.  Saying thank you is the least I could’ve done.

 

I stutter to a stop in front of our front door, panting against the doorframe.  I wonder if anyone’s awake yet.  I hope not.  I don’t think I can face my family right now.  I don’t have the energy to deal with my mother’s blankness, Aven’s neediness, or Prim’s questions.  All I want to do is get inside, draw a long hot bath, and sit in it until I don’t feel so dirty anymore.  Carefully, I open the door and slip inside.  

 

It’s dark.  So far, so good. 

 

Setting the food I got on the counter by the door, I tiptoe across the room, trying to avoid the squeaky floorboards.  But in the low light, I miss one.  

 

“Katniss?  Is that you?”

 

I freeze at Prim’s voice, any lingering hope of avoiding her questions melts away.

 

“Didn’t mean to wake you, Little Duck,” I manage to say, trying to keep my tone quiet and even.  She doesn’t need to know how shaky I am.

 

“I wasn’t sleeping,” she says in a voice that belies her words.  She stands up from the kitchen table, her form silhouetted against the windows.  She fumbles with our oil lamp.

 

“Don’t bother with that,” I tell her.  “You should be in bed.”  I don’t want her to see my face or my dress.  

 

But my sister ignores me.  “I wanted to see how you were doing, after…”  She looks around, trying to get her bearings.  “What time is it?”

 

“It’s early.  Sun’s just coming up.”

 

“He kept you all night?”

 

I nod my head.  “Paid extra too.”

 

“Was it worth it?” she asks.  I think she wants me to say no.

 

“Yes,” I say instead.  I don’t sound very sure of myself.  

 

I’d do anything to save my family.  

 

I just didn’t realize I’d be sacrificing myself.

 

“How much did you get?”

 

I slip into one of the chairs and pull out the coins.  “Twenty five.”

 

“That’s a week in the mines!”  Everybody in the Seam knows how much you make in the mines… and how far the money’ll get you.  Prim does the math in her head.  “You’re gonna do it again, aren’t you?”  It’s not really a question.

 

I turn away, not wanting to answer.

 

“I’ve got something for you,” Prim says, her voice carefully neutral.

 

I turn back to see her pulling something out of her pocket.  She sets a small glass bottle on the table.  

 

“What is it?” I ask.

 

“Wild carrot seeds.  If you take a teaspoon now, you shouldn’t get pregnant.”

 

I definitely don’t want Cray’s child.  Even though he used a condom, there’s no guarantee.  I’ve seen enough women come to Mom, asking for something to induce a miscarriage, to know condoms don’t always work.  “Thank you.”

 

“They’re gonna taste nasty,” she warns me. “And you’ll need to take them for seven days, just to be sure.”

 

“What if I get my period?”

 

“Then I guess you’re not pregnant.”  Prim changes the subject.  “What else you got there?”  She nods towards the two bags on the counter.

 

I pull out their contents onto the table.  It’s not much.  Three cans of Capitol-made ready-to-eat soup, a small tin of salmon, and something labeled jellied cranberries.  There’re three loaves of bread and seventeen rolls, but they’re all stale or burnt.  Between Prim and me, we can probably mix some of it with the soup to turn it into a meal, but even so, it’ll only feed our family for a couple of days.

 

It’s still more food than we’ve seen in weeks.

 

Prim counts it out before putting it away.  As she’s stacking the cans in the empty cupboard, she says, “Aven missed you last night.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“He cried himself to sleep.  I tried, but I’m not a singer like you or Dad.”

 

“How’s Mom?”

 

“Still out of it.  She won’t even get out of bed.”  It’s an accusation.  My sweet little sister is becoming hard.

 

“Were you able to get anything into her?”

 

“A little tea.”  

 

I sigh.  

 

Our mother’s been this way ever since our father died.  Losing him broke something inside of her.  She made it through the funeral but collapsed as soon as we got home.  Prim and I have taken turns taking care of her, hiding her incapacity from everyone.  Thank goodness we’re not in school right now, although that’ll change next week, which brings up a new set of problems.  Primarily, what to do with Aven.

 

The laundress, Hazelle, will take care of Aven during the day for a price.  Mostly we’ve been trading service for service, healing herbs and medicine for child care, but with our mother out of commission, I’m not sure how much longer we can keep it up.  Last month, we told her my mother was still grieving and we gave her tesserae oil instead, and I hope she’ll continue to accept that.  I know a little of my mother’s skills, but I’ve always been more of my father’s child.  My place is in the woods, gathering herbs, hunting, trapping, and fishing.  Prim’s a better healer.  One day she may even be as good as our mother.  But she’s still young and has a lot to learn.

 

Unfortunately, there’s no one left to teach her.

 

“So now what?” Prim asks, turning back to face me.

 

“Now we put some water on the stove and then I take a long bath.  I need to get his scent off me.”  I’m ashamed to hear my voice break. 

 

My sister’s by my side in a heartbeat, wrapping her thin arms around me, all trace of her earlier hardness gone.  “Don’t worry about it, Katniss.  We’ll figure out a way.  You won’t have to go see that man again.”

 

“That’s a nice thought, Prim.”  

 

We both know it isn’t true.

 

**oOo**

 

Once I feel less dirty, Prim and I work on making breakfast.  It’s not much.  One of the cans of soup with toasted slices of one of the loaves of bread for filler.

 

While Aven happily gulps down his breakfast, dipping the least burnt slices of bread in the salty liquid, Prim and I manage to force a few spoonfuls of food past our mother’s lips.  Feeding her is a chore.  She’ll only eat a little before she rolls over onto her side, refusing to take any more.

 

She’s slowly wasting away.  I think, in her mind, she blames herself for our father’s death, and now she’s hurrying to join him.

 

Prim and I eat what Aven and our mother don’t.  We’re so used to going without that even the small portions feel like a feast.

 

When we’re done, I tell Prim to watch Aven and our mother while I run out to buy more supplies. Prim and I will eat pretty much anything, but Aven’s pickier.  He gets bored with the same thing every day and we’re lucky if he eats more than a few bites of any one thing before demanding something new.  My mother’s a different challenge, and it’s hard striking a balance between the two.

 

I consider going to the Hob, but I know what they have isn’t going to be nutritious or as good of quality as what I can get in town.  The best thing about the Hob is most of the vendors will accept barter instead of money, but I have actual coin today.  So town is better.  

 

My first stop is the butcher’s, where I purchase a little bit of salt pork, more for flavoring than anything else.  Then it’s on to the dry goods store, where I pick up what I can.  I don’t want to spend all my money now.  We just need enough to make it through until I can get my tesserae again.

 

I don’t want to have to go to Cray again so soon if I can avoid it.  He’ll be curious as to why and might come to my house to investigate.

 

Still, even bargaining as hard as I can and purchasing older and unlabeled goods, I’m out eleven coin.  I think, with the boy with the bread’s contribution, we should make it through the next week.

 

When I’m done, I head back home to find someone with a cart standing at my door.  

 

My heart plummets.  Cray’s found out about my mother.  Someone’s here to take us to the Community Home.

 

I glance around, wondering if there’s someplace I can go to hide.  There isn’t anywhere, short of turning around and going back the way I came.

 

That’s not a good choice anyway.  My siblings are home.  Even if I’m safe, Prim and Aven won't be.

 

Steeling my shoulders, I soldier on, ready to face the worst.

 

As I get closer, I realize, to my surprise, that it’s the baker’s youngest son.  My heart drops further.  “Are you here to take the bread back?” 

 

“What?  No!” Peeta says.  “Um, can you open your door?  I’d like to put this inside.”

 

I stare at him.  “Huh?”

 

“Please, Katniss.  Will you open the door?”

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

He takes a deep breath.  “I think it’d be obvious.  I’m here to help.”

 

“I don’t need your help.”

 

“I think we both know that’s not true.”  He smiles ruefully. 

 

“I don’t want your help.”

 

He shakes his head.  “Can we talk inside?  I don’t think you want your neighbors hearing everything that we have to say.”

 

I realize he’s right.  I don’t want them to hear anything.  But I’m afraid, if he comes inside, he’ll see how bad my mother is and go call the Peacekeepers.  I’m caught between a rock and a hard place.

 

“Give me a second, I need to see if anyone’s home.”

 

“No one answered the door when I knocked.”

 

I frown.  Prim and Aven should’ve been there.  “I’m guessing they went out?” I suggest, my voice uncertain.  

 

“Probably.”  He stamps his feet.  “It’s getting a little cold out here.”

 

I sigh, opening the door, noting with relief that the door to the bedroom is closed.  So long as my mother doesn’t let out one of her low cries, we should be okay.

 

I turn to my unwelcome guest.  “Why don’t you come in and take a seat?”

 

He does, closing the front door behind him.  “I don’t suppose I could ask you for something hot to drink.”

 

“All we’ve got is mint tea.”

 

“That’ll be fine.”

 

I put the kettle on and turn to face him, my arms crossed defensively over my chest.  “So… what are you doing here?”

 

Spreading his hands out in a non-threatening way, he says, “I told you.  I’m here to help.”

 

“We didn’t ask for your help.”  My voice is flat.  

 

“I know, but… I just can’t bear to see you go to Cray again.”  His eyes are stricken.  “Not when there’s something I can do.”

 

“Why does this matter to you so much?”  I drop my hands in frustration and take a step towards him. “I don’t understand.  We haven’t even spoken until today!  I don’t even know what to call you!”  I’m frustrated.  Confused.  And I hate it!

 

“You could call me by my name.”

 

“Peeta?”

 

“Yeah.”  He smiles at me.  “I like hearing it on your lips.”

 

I look at him.  I don’t understand him at all.  I shake my head.  “Everything that comes out of your mouth just confuses me.”

 

“I don’t mean to.”  He takes another deep breath.  “It’s just… I’ve liked you for a long time.  But I haven’t really had the courage to say anything until now.”

 

“So you’re doing this because you’ve got a crush on me?”  I’ve dated a few guys in the past, nothing serious.  But none of them would raise a finger to keep my family from starving.  Mostly because they’ve got to feed their own families.  I don’t blame any of them for that.  Everyone in the Seam is struggling.  

 

Peeta just continues to smile at me.  It makes me uncomfortable.  “So what do you think you can do to help?”

 

The smile slips from his face, much to my relief.  “Well, I can keep bringing you some of our old bread.  My mother won’t notice if I don’t give all of it to the pigs and chickens.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

“And… I… may have kind of, well, sort of… signed up for tesserae.”  Peeta shuffles his feet, shooting nervous glances in my direction.

 

My head reels.  “You did what?”

 

“I signed up for tesserae.”  His voice is stronger now.  More sure.  

 

“No!”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Take it back!”  I’m overwhelmed.  Scared.  The implications are almost too immense to think about.  The kettle on the stove behind me lets out a long screech, but I don’t have the brainpower to deal with it right now.  

 

“I can’t.  You know the rules,” he tells me, slipping past me to the stove.  “Once you’ve signed up, your name’s in the Reaping Bowl no matter what.  If you take tesserae one month or twelve, it doesn’t change how much your name’s in the bowl.”  He pours us both a cup of tea and holds one mug out to me.

 

I stare at it dumbly.  Peeta took out tesserae for me and now he’s offering me tea?  This can’t be happening.  “So take it home to your family!”

 

“And face my mother?”  He blows on his tea to cool it.  “Are you insane?  She’d kill me!  You’ve gotta take it.  Otherwise it’ll be wasted.”

 

I wouldn’t want to argue with his mother.  But that doesn’t mean I can just take his tesserae.  He’s risking his life for that grain and oil.  He can’t just give it to me.  “What do you want in return?”  

 

“Nothing!”  

 

“That’s not how it works,” I tell him.  “Everything has a price.”

 

He shakes his head, taking a sip from his mug.  “You don’t owe me anything, Katniss.  I wanted to do this.”

 

If he won’t name his price, then I’ll have to choose it.  I don’t have a lot I can give him.  

 

But there is one thing.

 

I stand up and start unbuttoning my shirt.

 

The mug slips from his hand onto the floor with a loud crash.  “What are you--”  Realization dawns in his eyes.  “No!  Damn it, Katniss, no!  I don’t want that from you!”

 

I unbutton another button.  “You say you’ve got a crush on me.  All boys want this.”

 

“Not all boys!”  He scrambles backwards away from me.  “I mean, yes.  I find you attractive.  Who wouldn’t?   Damn it, Katniss, I--” he stops himself from completing the phrase, much to my relief.  Taking several steadying breaths, he continues, “But it needs to be real.  For both of us.  Until it can be real, I’ll wait.  And if it never happens, I’m okay with that.  Just please, let me help you.  I couldn’t live with myself if I let you and your family starve and did nothing.”

 

I stare at him, my mind struggling to take in everything he said.  “I need to give you something in return.”

 

Peeta furrows his brow, thinking.  “You’re good at hunting, right?”

 

I nod my head.

 

“Then teach me how to hunt.  My father likes squirrels.  It’d be nice to be able to bring one home for him sometime.”

 

“There’s too much snow,” I point out.  I haven’t left the district in a few weeks because of the snow piled up against the fence.  I can’t take him hunting now.

 

“So teach me in the spring,” he says, bending down to pick up the broken mug.

 

I think about his offer.  “So you’re saying, if I teach you to hunt, you’ll give me your portion of tesserae?”

 

“If that’s what you want, Katniss.”  Peeta looks up at me, his eyes shining.  “I’d give it to you anyway.  But this way at least I get to spend some time with you.”

 

“No sex?” I say, my hands still hovering over my shirt buttons.

 

“No.  No sex.”  He looks like he wants to say something more, but doesn’t.  That’s fine with me, everything that comes out of his mouth just confuses me more and more.  

 

I cross my arms over my chest.  “So we’d be, what, hunting partners?”

 

“And friends, if you’ll have me.”

 

“I’m not very good at friends.” 

 

“I think you’re selling yourself short.”  He gives me a little smile.  “What about that guy you hang out with at school?  Thom, right?  You’re not seeing him, are you?”

 

I shake my head.  “No.  Thom’s just a friend.”  

 

“See?  If you can be friends with one boy, you can be friends with me.”

 

“Fine, Peeta,” I give in.  “Friends.”

 

**oOo**

 

Peeta helps me unload his cart, carrying in the bags of grain and jugs of oil.  When we’re finished, he looks over at me with regret in his eyes.  “I should probably get going.  My mom thinks I’m running an errand to the goat man to get some milk, and I can’t be gone for too long.”

 

“Thank you,” I say, finally summoning up the ability to say the words I wasn’t able to this morning.  “For everything.”

 

Peeta’s hand reaches out like he wants to touch me before he draws it back.  “I told you.  I want to do this.  I need to do this.”  He smiles at  me again.  “I’m just happy you’re letting me help.”

 

After he goes, I try not to worry about where my sister and brother are.  They still haven’t returned home.  Instead, I spend my time taking stock of our supplies and making a batch of tesserae bread.  It’s not as good as the bakery’s, but it’s filling.  I also make a little stew to go with it.  It’s more broth than substance, but together with the bread, it should be enough to fill us up.

 

Sometime in the late afternoon, there’s a knock at the door.  I open it to find Hazelle Hawthorne standing there, my little brother in her arms.  Before I can even ask a question, she hands him to me.

 

“Sorry about this.  Prim dropped him off this morning, but I just got a rush job I need to work on tonight.”  She’s talking a mile a minute, shoving Aven’s hat, lunchpail, and other things at me.  “I’m sorry I have to drop him off a little early, but I can’t wait for you to pick him up.”

 

I nod my head wordlessly, catching the hat before it falls to the floor.  I have no idea what she’s talking about, but I’m not about to reveal that Prim brought our little brother to her without telling anyone.  Hazelle’s sharp.  She’d know something was up.  I can’t let her find out about our mother.  I can’t let anyone find out about our mother.

 

“Thank you for watching him,” I say, setting my little brother down.  “Um, is one jug of oil still good for payment?  When I get my tesserae, I mean.”

  
“So long as you provide his meals, yes.”

 

It’s a good deal.  I’m glad she’s willing to accept it.

 

After Hazelle leaves, I sit Aven down at the table with a couple slices of toast and a bowl of stew.  He eats a few bites before pushing the plate away.  This is typical of him.

 

Pulling out my newly purchased jar of jam, I spread a thin layer on one of the pieces of toast and offer it to the little boy.  

 

Aven takes an exploratory bite, then smiles at me.  “Yummy!” he proclaims before wolfing it down.

 

I pull his half-eaten bowl of soup over and crumble up one of Peeta’s stale rolls into it, glancing up at the clock worriedly.

 

Where in the world is Prim?

 

**oOo**

 

My sister doesn’t return home until it’s almost dark.  She slips into the house, stamping the snow off of her boots.

 

“Where were you?” I ask her, my arms crossed.  I feel an eerie sense of deja vu, only with the roles flipped.  

 

Prim whirls, turning to face me.  “Damn it, Katniss, you startled me!”

 

“You didn’t answer my question.  Where were you?”  

 

“Out.”

 

“I see that.  You were supposed to stay here, with Mom and Aven.”

 

“Aw crap, Aven!  I forgot!  I’ll be right back!”  She puts her hand on the doorknob.

 

“Don’t bother,” I tell her.  “Hazelle dropped him off earlier.  She had something come up.  You’re just damned lucky I was here.”

 

Her hand drops.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“So where were you, Prim?” I press.  “Why’d you sneak off like that?”

 

“I had to do something, Katniss!  You can’t go to Cray again.”  She throws herself into my arms.  “I won’t let you.”

 

I reach up to stroke her back.  “And leaving our brother with Hazelle helps me not go to Cray?”

 

She pulls away and reaches for her bag, dumping the contents onto the table.  There’s a fairly large rabbit along with some thin strips of whitish plant material, probably the inner bark of some tree, and a few rose hips and wintergreen leaves.

 

“Where did you get this, Prim?”  I ask, already knowing the answer. 

 

“In the forest.”

 

“Outside the fence?”

 

She nods.

 

“How did you get out there?”  If there’s an opening, we can both go out tomorrow.  I feel hope swell within me.

 

And it’s just as quickly dashed at my sister’s answer.  “I climbed the fence.”

  
“Prim!  That’s dangerous!  What if it had turned on while you were on it?”

 

“But it didn’t!”

 

“But it could’ve!”

 

“Then you’d have one less mouth to feed!  We needed the food!”

 

I throw open the cupboards, showing her the packets of grain and oil.  “No, Prim, we didn’t!”

 

“Where’d that come from?” she asks, staring at the newly full cupboards.

 

“Peeta Mellark.”

 

“The baker’s boy?”

 

I nod.

 

“Where’d he get it?”  Her voice is suspicious.

 

“He took out tesserae.”

 

Her eyes widen.  “He must love you a lot.”

 

Slumping against the counter, I look at my little sister helplessly.  “I think he does, Prim.  I think he does.”

 

“Well, what are you gonna do?”

 

I shake my head.  “I don’t know.”

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 11/7/15  
> Revised: 4/11/15   
> Revised 2: 4/26/16  
> Betaread by: Amy & amelinazenitram
> 
> So we’ve decided to continue this. There will be no set posting schedule for this fic. We’ve already got other things that take priority.
> 
> Each chapter title will be inspired by a quote. As you can see, this one was from Mother Teresa. The title of the fic as a whole comes from Nikita Gill and the first chapter comes from Buddha.
> 
> Fair warning: this fic will probably be a little dark to begin with. There will be a happy ending, but it’s not going to happen immediately.
> 
> Much like Let Me Fly, many of the elements in this story will be randomized. We do have an endpoint and a general outline of how to get there.
> 
> Things We Randomized:  
> \-- If Prim got over the fence and what, if anything, she caught/found
> 
> We hope you enjoyed! Let us know what you think!


	3. The Sum of Small Efforts

Last Time in  **Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged** :

 

_ Her eyes widen.  “He must love you a lot.” _

 

_ Slumping against the counter, I look at my little sister helplessly.  “I think he does, Prim.  I think he does.” _

 

_ “Well, what are you gonna do?” _

 

_ I shake my head.  “I don’t know.” _

 

**oOo**

Chapter Three: The Sum of Small Efforts

**oOo**

 

_“Success is the sum of small efforts, repeated day in and day out.”_

_― Robert Collier_

 

**oOo**

 

I wake up two days later with cramps.  

 

Relief floods through me; I stifle the urge to giggle like a child.  I’m not pregnant!  Even though Cray used protection, it still didn’t mean I was safe.  But now I am, even if it means a few days of pain.  At least this pain I can do something about.  Wrapping my arms around my body, I slip out of bed to make myself some willow bark tea. 

 

While the water heats, I can’t stop myself from thinking about how happy I am that my desperate gambit didn’t leave me with an even bigger problem.  I want to have children someday, but with somebody I care about.  Not a Peacekeeper’s baby.  And definitely not now, not when I’m already struggling to feed my family.  A baby would be an extra burden I’m not sure I could bear.

 

Unfortunately, there’s a downside to getting my period:  I need supplies.  We’ve been using our wool to help keep my mother clean while she’s incapacitated and there’s not enough for the both of us.  I guess this means a trip to the Hob is in order.

 

Skipping breakfast because of the cramps, I ask Prim to look after our mother and Aven.  

 

“Of course I will!” she agrees quickly.  Too quickly.  

 

Thinking about her disappearing act yesterday, I raise my eyebrow at her.  “I mean it, Prim.  I need you to look after them.  I shouldn’t be gone too long, and if you bring Aven to Hazelle again, she’s going to wonder why.”  My eyes bore into hers.  “We can’t let anyone find out about Mom.”

 

Prim makes a face, but doesn’t argue.  My point’s been made.  

 

Even though it’s the middle of winter, the Hob is bustling with activity.  Haymitch Abernathy is at Ripper’s stall, as usual.  Merchants of all kinds are hawking their wares.  I even spot my ex-boyfriend, Gale, making the rounds.  I wonder if he’s selling anything.  I know that he, like me, often hunts on the other side of the fence.  It was one of the few things we had in common.

 

He might’ve been a good hunting partner, but he was a lousy boyfriend.  Dating him was a mistake.  A stupid, ill-thought out mistake.  

 

I wish we’d ended on good enough terms so that he could still be my hunting partner, but we didn’t.  Gale hasn’t quite forgiven me for “stealing” - his words - his best friend.  It’s not my fault Thom liked me better, or that he took my side when Gale was pressuring me for sex.  It was Thom’s choice to back me, one I’m thankful for.  I’m not really good at friends, so I’m grateful for the one I have. 

 

Speaking of Thom, I notice he’s working at his family’s stall.  The Lindens are one of the main secondhand goods dealers in Twelve, and everyone knows they give the best deals and have the best quality.  It also helps that they tend to give me a discount on items because of my friendship with their son.  I make my way over to him.  Despite our lack of food, Aven’s growing like a weed, and he’s going to need new shoes soon.  Might as well see if there’s any available.

 

“Katniss!” Thom greets me happily.  “So how are you doing?” His voice drops so only I can hear.  “How’s your mom?”

 

“No change.”

 

Thom is one of the few people who’s actually aware of my mother’s condition.  He knows how hard we’ve had it.  He’s the one who went with me the first time I had to sign up for tesserae.  He helped me carry the grain and oil home and comforted me while I cried afterwards even though he’s got more slips in the bowl than I ever will.  He’s a good friend.   

 

Too bad he’s scared of the woods.

 

If I could merge him and Gale together, the resulting person would be perfect.  

 

I glance at his wares, noting that the only shoes available are adult-sized miner’s boots.  Another time, then.  I ask Thom to keep an eye out for shoes Aven’s size before turning to the stall next to him.  

 

The Goat Man is a fixture in Twelve, trading with merchant and Seam alike.  No one knows what his real name is, or if he’s merchant or Seam.  His skin’s too worn and weathered to tell, and his eyes are glazed over with cataracts.  But he’s still sharp.

 

“What can I do for you today?” he asks, blinking his rheumy eyes at me.

 

I point to one of his bags of wool.  It’s softer than the lambswool some of the other traders sell, and it lasts longer.

 

He nods his head and quotes a price.  

 

I haggle with him for a bit before shaking his hand.  “I’m also interested in trading for milk,” I add, thinking about Aven and his growth spurt.  “A pint a day.”

 

“That ain’t cheap.  It’ll cost ya.”

 

“I can give you a full portion of tesserae oil,” I offer.  While I use the oil for lighting and cooking, there’s always some left over, and you can’t eat straight oil.  You get sick.

 

I know.  I’ve tried.

 

The old man shakes his head.  “One portion of oil, two of grain.”

 

“For a pint of milk a day?  You’re out of your mind!”  The offer’s outrageous, but it’s supposed to be.  Bargaining is a necessary skill in Twelve.  Almost as popular a spectator sport here as the Games are in the Capitol.  Crossing my arms over my chest, I prepare my counter offer.  “One portion of oil and a quarter of a portion of grain.”

 

We haggle back and forth before finally settling on one full tesserae portion for the milk.  It’s a little steeper than I’d like.  If it weren’t for Peeta and his tesserae, I wouldn’t even be considering doing this.  But Aven needs milk.  And frankly, so does Prim.  So it’s worth it.

 

We make arrangements to exchange goods the next day, and that either myself or Prim can pick up the milk each day.  I wish, once again, that my parents had had the foresight to get a goat.

 

I’m about to leave the Hob when I see Sae motioning at me frantically.  The old woman’s a fixture in Twelve, and she’s got her usual array of Peacekeeper clients.  I see one of the younger and friendlier Peacekeepers, Darius, seated at her stall, along with a couple of others I don’t recognize.

 

Glancing at them warily, I ask, “Is there something you wanted, Sae?”

 

“I was just seein’ how you were doin’, girl.”  Her eyes flick from her stew pot to the Peacekeepers.  “Things have been mighty lean recently.  I don’t know if any pests have done died in your garden that you might be willing to part with.”

 

Ah.  So she wants to trade.  Her supply of meat must be drying up, and Peacekeepers prefer to eat at her stall than in their barracks.  I’m guessing the food tastes better.  

 

I shake my head.  “Nothing right now, but if I manage to catch something, I’ll keep you in mind.”  I mean it too.  Sae’ll take pretty much anything and she’s a good ally to have here at the Hob.

 

“You do that, dearie.”  She spoons out a small bowl and hands it to me.  “Your pa was one of my best sources.  I’d like to keep up the tradition.”

 

I take the bowl gratefully, wolfing it down.  It’s mostly broth, but it’s hot and satisfying.  I’m almost finished with my soup when a throat clears beside me.  A chill of fear trickles down my spine.  Lifting my eyes from my meal, I turn to meet a pair of startling sea green ones.  

 

I blink.  I didn’t know Peacekeepers had eyes that color.  I wonder if they’re real. 

 

Unaware of my internal monologue, Darius smiles at me.  “I like your braid today.”  

 

“Uh.  Thanks?”  What am I supposed to say?  To cover my embarrassment, I lift the bowl to my lips, sucking down the dregs.  

 

“You’re welcome.”  The red-haired man’s voice is warm but tinged with some other emotion I can’t quite identify.  I think it might be nervousness, but I have to be wrong.  Why would a Peacekeeper be nervous?  Darius glances over his shoulder at his comrades. “Why don’t you come sit with us, have a bowl of stew?”

 

“I’m already done,” I tell him.  “Thank you.”

 

His smile falters.  “Maybe next time.”  He almost sounds disappointed.  

 

Not wanting to run into another awkward situation, I take my leave.  The last thing I want to do is run into Cray.  

 

When I get home, Prim’s still there, much to my relief, although I can tell she’s itching to go out.

 

“Stay away from the fence, Prim,” I warn.  “We don’t need you getting hurt either.” 

 

“I’ll be fine,” she snaps.  “I’m not a baby.  I can help too.”

 

I gather my little sister into my arms.  “I know you can, Prim.  I know you can.”

 

**oOo**

 

It’s a good thing we have Peeta’s tesserae, as well as the supplies Cray’s money purchased, because the following day, the heavens open up and blanket Twelve in several feet of snow.  Any hope Prim or I had of catching any game is quickly quashed.  Neither of us will be able to get under the fence.  The snow is up to my thighs, and the Peacekeepers even hire several local youths to help clear the streets and paths of Twelve.  Gale and Thom manage to cajole their way onto the team.  I try too, but get passed over as not being strong enough.  

 

We could’ve used the money.  Supplies are still tight.  Prim and I do our best to stretch what we have, spending most of our confinement grinding the tesserae grain into a type of coarse flour.  It’s monotonous work.  Our shoulders ache from the task.  But at least this way, we don’t have to eat the tasteless brown mush.

 

On the Sunday before school reopens, there’s a knock at our door.  I open it to see Peeta, snowflakes dangling from his eyelashes, waiting on the other side.

 

“What are you doing here?” I ask, motioning for him to come in.  “The weather’s too bad to go hunting.”

 

“I know.”  Peeta stomps his boots on the floor to get the snow off.  “Can’t a friend come over and visit?”

 

“We’re friends?”

 

“Well, not yet, I suppose.  But I’d like to be.”

 

“I suppose.”  I play with the end of my braid, thinking of our almost empty cupboards.  “I can’t really offer you much of anything.”

 

He shrugs.  “That’s okay.  I grabbed some of my mom’s old tea.  She won’t even notice it’s missing.  She says it smells like old feet, but it was a gift from Mrs. Undersee, so she won’t throw it out.”

 

“Won’t your mom be upset to know you’re seeing a Seam girl?”

 

“She doesn’t know.  And Sundays are my day off from the shop, and I don’t really have any friends.”

 

“What about all those people that sit with you at lunch during school?”  His table’s always full of kids laughing and talking, while Thom and I eat our lunches under one of the trees, usually without much talking.  I like the quiet most of the time, but there’s a tiny part of me that’s jealous of everyone who makes friends so much more easily than I do.

 

Peeta shakes his head.  “They’re not my friends.  Okay, well, Delly is,” he corrects before I can say anything.  “But Delly’s everyone’s friend.  I think she’d befriend President Snow if she could.”

 

The thought of the shoemaker’s cheerful daughter cozying up to the reptilian looking President of Panem brings a burble of laughter to my lips.  She’d probably give the old man a hug and compliment the ever-present rose in his lapel.  The girl’s outgoing like that.  

 

He beams at me.  “See?  I made you laugh.  We’re totally friends!”

 

“Fine.  We’re friends.”

 

“Great!  I brought lunch.”  He holds out a paper bag.  “And before you say no, ‘cause I know you’re gonna say no, I’m eating it too.  And it’s okay for friends to share their lunch with each other.  I mean, I swear Madge shares Johnny’s lunch all the time.”

 

“But aren’t they dating?” 

 

Peeta blushes.  “They’re kind of betrothed.”

 

“But Madge is our age.”  I immediately want to take back the words.  I know it can happen.  I even know of people who’ve gotten married that young, mostly merchants who’ve gotten pregnant or Community Home kids looking to escape.  I considered it, but I don’t know of anyone who’d be willing, let alone able, to take on four more mouths to feed. 

 

“Yeah… They’ve already signed the paperwork.”  Peeta’s voice sounds envious.  “As soon as Johnny has his last Reaping, he’s going to be moving in with them.”

 

I chalk the envy up to his middle brother getting away from his mother.  But then another thought crosses my mind.  His oldest brother is married to the Apothecary’s only daughter, and they’re the heirs apparent to that business.  If Johnny’s moving in with Madge…  “So who gets the bakery?”

 

Peeta rubs the back of his neck.  “Me.”

 

The bakery’s one of the most important businesses in District Twelve.  That means Peeta’s as good as royalty.

 

So what is he doing hanging out with a peasant like me?

 

**oOo**

 

School resumes the following day.  It’s as pointless as it always is.

 

I spend most of it staring out the window or, when I think no one’s looking, watching Peeta Mellark.  I never really gave him much thought, and now I’m trying to figure him out.  I know he says he cares for me.  That he has a crush on me.  But I still can’t quite understand it.

 

At lunch, Thom joins me, setting down his simple sandwich of seared meat and tesserae bread.  “What’re you staring at, Katniss?” he asks, following where my eyes are looking.  “Something interesting going on at the baker boys’ table?”

 

Guiltily, I turn my eyes away.  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

“You were watching them pretty closely.  You got a crush on one of them?”  He frowns.  “Have they been harassing you?”

 

I shake my head.  “No, nothing like that.  It’s just… I was just staring, okay?”

 

He nods, taking a seat across from me.  “So.  Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“Nothing’s wrong.”

 

“Now I know that’s a lie.  You’ve got shadows under your eyes, like you’ve not been sleeping.”

 

I lower my voice.  “I went to Cray.”

 

To his credit, Thom doesn’t say anything, just extending his hand out to enfold one of mine and give it a warm squeeze.  He knows what it’s like.  His sister was one of Cray’s regulars before she got married.  She even had to see my mother a couple of times when she got in trouble.  He and his sister have always been close.  I think that’s one of the reasons why Thom sided with me against Gale. 

 

I’m distracted from my thoughts when a cheerful female voice says, “Mind if we sit here?”

 

I look up to see Delly Cartwright smiling at us brightly.

 

“Peeta suggested we come over here and give Madge and Johnny a little bit of private space.”  She looks like she wants to coo over the lovebirds.  “They’re so sweet together, you know.”

 

Thom looks at me and back up at her.  “Sure, I suppose.  Take a seat.”

 

“Thanks!  I’m Delly, by the way,” she says, holding her hand out.

 

“Thom.  Thom Linden.”

 

“You’re on the wrestling team, right?  And the track team.”

 

I feel someone sit down next to me.  I look over to see Peeta smiling at the two of them indulgently.

 

“You don’t need to sit with me,” I whisper to him.

 

“It was Delly’s idea.”

 

I give him a look.  “I’m sure you hinted at it.”

 

He shrugs, refusing to confirm or deny my accusation.  “Muffin?” he offers, holding out a piece of his lunch.

 

“Fine.”

 

The two of us sit in friendly silence while Delly babbles at Thom.  I admit, it’s kind of nice.

 

I could get used to this.

 

**oOo**

 

I’m putting away my tesserae rations for the month when there’s a knock at my door.  It’s probably Hazelle with Aven.  I asked her to keep him a little longer than normal today so I could get everything from the Justice Building without having him underfoot.

 

I have no idea where Prim is.  I hope she’s hanging out with friends rather than attempting to find food in the woods, but I know, if I were in her shoes, I’d probably be struggling to find some way to feed my family.  She’s still too young to take out tesserae and I’m doing my best to make sure she never will.  But she wants, needs, to contribute.  I understand the desire.  

 

Not bothering to turn from my task, I call out, “Come in!”

 

The door opens and a male voice says, “I think I heard a ‘come in’?”

 

I whirl around.  “Peeta!  What are you doing here?”

 

“I take it I’m not the person you were expecting.”

 

“No, you’re not.”

 

He ducks his head.  “I’m sorry.  If this is a bad time, I can go.”

 

“No, that’s not it,” I hasten to reassure him.  “What are you doing here?”

 

“I was wondering if we could do homework together?”

 

I stare at him in shock.  “Homework?”

 

“Yeah.  You know, that stuff they assign at school that you turn in?”

 

“I haven’t done homework in years,” I tell him.

 

His shoulders slump.  “Oh.  I guess I’m just dumb then.”  He looks up at me, a hopeful smile on his face.  “Well, maybe you can help me.”

 

I shake my head.  “That’s not what I meant, Peeta.  School just seems sort of… pointless.  Especially for someone like me.  I mean, it’s not like you need an education to get a job in the mines.  All you need is a healthy set of lungs and a strong back and you’re pretty much a shoo-in.”

 

“I mean I guess you’re right,” he admits, rubbing the back of his neck.  “But don’t you want something better?”

 

I shrug.  “Sure, but what?  It’s not like there’s opportunities growing on trees here in Twelve.  I mean, you’re either a miner or a merchant.  Those are pretty much the options.”

 

Peeta glances down at his feet.  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.  I - I should go.”

 

I feel bad, like I’ve destroyed his dreams somehow.  “I mean, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt, doing homework.  It’s not like I can go hunting, right?”

 

He gives me a half-hearted smile.  “Right.”

 

“Why don’t you sit down?  I’ll make us some tea.”

 

The smile widens, becomes real.  “I’d like that.”

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 11/12/15  
> Revised: 5/19/16  
> Revised 2: 6/2/16  
> Betaread by: Amy & amelinazenitram
> 
> This chapter sets up a day in the life of Twelve, bringing you up to speed on many of the differences. Some of them are readily apparent. Some aren’t. Also, all of the major players have been introduced, or at least mentioned. Now it’s just a matter of tracking their movements across the board.
> 
> Katniss is both the same and different from canon. Losing her father later has affected her worldview. She dated prior to her father’s death and not just Gale. She has a different idea of what life can be like. Children were wanted and loved in her household and she saw how happy having children made her parents. She’s also colored by the fact that her father’s life was extended by having kids. She knows what could have happened on that day and so she sees things differently. She’s still wary. She’s still in de-Nile-land. She’s still stand-offish. But she’s more open to some experiences. At least right now… Dun-Dun-Dun!
> 
> Things We Randomized:  
> \-- If Prim got over the fence and what, if anything, she caught/found (in this chapter, the answer to those questions was “no” and “nothing”)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!


	4. An Offer She Can't Refuse

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter contains references to coerced sexual relations. We will not be showing the actual act. Merely the prelude and aftermath. Reader discretion is advised. If you want more information, skip to the bottom notes, which will include a summary of what happened.

**oOo**

 

_“I’m going to make him an offer he can’t refuse.”  
― Vito Corleone (The Godfather) _

 

**oOo**

 

“I’ll see you at school!” Prim calls to me as she closes the front door.  Today’s her day to drop Aven off at Hazelle’s while I finish taking care of our mother.  We take turns with the chores so as not to arouse Hazelle’s or the school’s suspicions in case one of us is late.

 

It’s how we’ve managed to stay undiscovered for so long.  

 

Today, I’m trying to feed my mother some of the tesserae mush.  She’s chewing it mindlessly, her eyes fixed on some point above the door to the bedroom.   I wonder what she finds so fascinating.  

 

I miss my mother.  She’d been very supportive of both my hunting and who I dated.  She even made sure I knew how to prevent pregnancy if I felt tempted to visit the slag heap.  I hadn’t.  I don’t want to risk getting pregnant.  At least not until I can make sure the child will be provided for and will never have to take out tesserae.  Like me until my father got sick.  Like I’m trying to do for Prim.  

 

Seeing the woman who used to be so full of life reduced to this shell of a human makes me want to cry.  She blamed herself for failing to cure my father, even though there wasn’t anything she could do at the end.  Black Lung is the most common cause of death in the Seam.  But my mother couldn’t accept it.  It’s like I lost two parents when my father died.  My mother’s body just hasn’t caught on yet.  

 

I’ve just finished forcing another spoonful into her slack mouth when there’s a pounding on the front door.

 

It sounds urgent.  Official.

 

My heart races.

 

Setting the food down, I make my way to the front door, careful to close the door to the bedroom behind me.  I’m glad I did, because I open our front door to reveal a white-clad Peacekeeper with tanned skin and eyes like a cat’s.  In his hands is a wire snare wrapped around the neck of a frozen rabbit.

 

My stomach churns.

 

My eyes drop to his chest, both to hide my fear and to find out his name.  I don’t know him.  He’s not a regular at the Hob, and I haven’t seen him around town.  Most of them know me and don’t care about my hunting.  They’re even some of my best customers.  That either means he’s new, or he’s stationed in the Justice Building.  Either way, it’s bad news for me.  

 

“How can I help you, Peacekeeper Donaldson?” I ask, careful not to let my voice betray me.

 

“I was wondering if the owner of this contraption was home.”

 

“Excuse me?”  It’s better to claim ignorance than admit to a crime.  So I’m hoping he’s just fishing and isn’t looking for anyone specific.

 

He pushes his way inside, slamming the door behind him and tossing the carcass into the sink.  “You heard me.”  His tone is dark, dangerous.

 

“I did.  I’m just not sure I know who you’re looking for.”

 

“That’s a likely story.”  His eyes narrow, taking in the few family photographs we have.  He motions to one, and smiles.  It isn’t a kind smile.  “I’m damn sure I’m in the right place.  Ain’t too many girls with blond hair and pigtails runnin’ around the Meadow.”

 

Prim.

 

The jackhammering in my heart increases.  He must’ve seen Prim.  We’ve been setting snares in the Meadow, but we’ve been careful to make sure they’re well-hidden.  Besides, I haven’t bothered going since the snow’s started.  I don’t want any tracks to give me away.

 

I’m guessing Prim wasn’t as careful.

 

“There’s lots of girls here with blond hair,” I try to bluff.  If Prim’s discovered, she could face the whipping post or worse.

 

The Peacekeeper shakes his head.  He’s not buying it.  “Yes, but only one of them is your sister.  No use trying to hide it, Katniss,” he says my name with a hiss.  “I followed her back here last night.”

 

My heart is throbbing.  I’m surprised he can’t hear it.  How does he know my name?  I can’t ask that.  “Why didn’t you do anything then?”

 

“Because I’m not interested in seeing that pretty skin of hers whipped away underneath the lash.  In fact, I’d rather see your pretty skin.”  His eyes rake over my body, taking in my meager curves.  I feel like a piece of meat.  “I’ll pay.  Say… my silence about this transgression for an hour or two of your time.”

 

“I’m not for sale,”  I tell him, crossing my arms over my chest.  

 

“Oh please, we both know that’s not true.  I saw you going to Cray.  There’s only one reason a girl like you goes to him,” he sneers.  “Sex.”  He leers at me, his unnerving yellow eyes darkening with lust.  “So, girl, what’s it gonna be?  You... or your sister?”

 

I stare at him in horror.  He knows I don’t have a choice.  I can’t let Prim be whipped.  I can’t.  She’s so young.  So small.  Twenty five lashes would kill her.

 

With shaky hands, I reach up and start unbuttoning my shirt.

 

The man smirks.  “I knew you’d make the right choice.”

 

**oOo**

 

I stare at the stove, waiting for the pots of water on it to boil.  I need a bath.  Another one.  My third today.  I took my first as soon as Donaldson left, enduring icy cold water just to get the stink of his sweat and the smell of his breath off of me.  There’s no way I’m going school today.  I don’t want to see anyone.  I can’t.  If anyone asks, I’ll just say I was sick.

 

It wouldn’t be far from the truth.

 

Why won’t the water heat?  I’m starting to feel the Peacekeeper’s hands on me again.  Maybe the stove needs more coal.  We don’t have a lot.  But I can spare a few more lumps, I think.  I fish out the two smallest chunks.  I’m straightening up when there’s another knock at the door.

 

I freeze, the coal dropping to the floor with twin thumps.  Is it him?  Is he back?  I can’t move.  I’m paralyzed with fear.  I can’t do that again.  Maybe if I don’t move, whoever it is will go away.

 

The person knocks again.  This time louder, more insistent.

 

It has to be him.  Or another Peacekeeper.  Oh God, Prim!  What if they caught her?  What if Donaldson caught her?  What if he goes after her next?

 

I can’t allow that to happen.  I throw open the door, ready to confront whoever’s on the other side.

 

“Katniss!” Peeta exclaims.  “You’re here!”  

 

I stare at him in shock, my mouth opening and closing like a fish.

 

He tilts his head, taking in my expression.  “What’s wrong?”

 

“No-Nothing,” I manage after a false start.  “Just not feeling very good.  I don’t think I’m up for studying today.”  I try to smile at Peeta to let him know I’m fine.  I fail.

 

“Why weren’t you at school?”

 

I shake my head.  “I told you.  I’m not feeling good.”

 

He reaches out to place a hand on my shoulder and I flinch away.  “Katniss… what’s wrong?”

 

I look around.  There aren’t many people outside, but there’s enough.  Most of them are kids coming home from school.  I step aside, wordlessly acknowledging that he can come in.

 

As he steps through the door, I see his eyes darting this way and that, taking in the spilled coal, the water boiling on the stove, the torn shirt on the floor, the overturned chair, the five coins scattered on the table and floor, and the thawed rabbit carcass in the sink.  “Katniss, what happened?”  

 

I open my mouth, but I can’t speak.  I should have picked up all of the evidence.  Hidden it away.  Burned it.  But no, I had to get clean first.  Stupid.

 

“Katniss?”  He holds out his hand to me.  “Please.  Tell me what happened?”

 

It’s the ‘please’ that does it.  That, and the kindness, the concern, I see in his eyes.  This time, when I try to speak, I can.  The details of Donaldson’s assault spill out in a rush.  

 

As I speak, Peeta’s ungloved hands clench and unclench slowly, like he’s trying to keep himself under control.  The tendons in his jaw vibrate in anger.  “I’ll kill him,” he growls when I finish.  “I don’t care if he’s a Peacekeeper.  I’m gonna fucking kill him.”  He stands up, pulling on his gloves as he stalks towards the door.

 

“No, Peeta, you can’t!”  I block his path, my hands held up protectively.  “You can’t say things like that!  You’ll get in trouble!”  Killing a Peacekeeper is a guaranteed death sentence.  Peeta can’t die for me.  I won’t let him.

 

“I don’t care!” he thunders, the tendon in his jaw tightening.  “No one lays hands on you without your permission.  No one!  I’m gonna kill him.”

 

“Please, Peeta, don’t.  This is my fault.”  I cross my arms over my chest.  “I should’ve known better than to set snares in the Meadow.  I should’ve made sure Prim and I paid more attention.”

 

His eyes snap to me.  “What’s Prim got to do with this?”

 

I realize I left out an important detail in my story.  “It was Prim’s snare.  He gave me a choice.  Me or my sister.  I couldn’t bear it if Prim were tortured like that.”  My eyes dart to Peeta.  “Prim can’t know.  She’d take it too hard.  She can’t know.”

 

“You’ve got to tell her something.”

 

“I know,” I admit, “but she can’t know about the… that.  I think it’d break her.”

 

“But what about you?”  His voice is tender.

 

My arms clench tighter.  “I’ll - I’ll be fine.”

 

“No you won’t.  Katniss…”  He hesitates, then continues.  “Did he use protection?”

 

I feel the blood drain from my face.  “No.  He didn’t.”

 

I jump up, running to the cabinet where my mother keeps her stores.  I know what I’m looking for.  I know what I need.  My mother’s prescribed it enough times to women who’ve gone to Peacekeepers, and Prim gave it to me after I went to Cray.  Wild carrot seed.  I pull out the glass bottle and shakily measure out a teaspoon.  

 

Peeta watches me with concern in his eyes, but I don’t have time to explain.  I can’t have that man’s baby.  I want to scrub every trace of him from my body.  From my mind.  I need every part of him gone.  I couldn’t bear to raise his yellow-eyed bastard.

 

After I’ve choked the medicine down and washed away the taste with a cup of mint tea, I turn to Peeta.  “Please don’t do anything rash.”

 

“Why not?  He doesn’t deserve to live, Katniss.  Not after what he’s done to you.”  His eyes meet mine.  “And you can bet he’s not going to stop.  Men like that never do.”

 

I’m grateful he doesn’t bring up my panicked dosing of herbs.  I don’t want to talk about that with him.  With anyone.  Better to stick to safer subjects… relatively.  “I know,” I say, resigned.  Peeta’s right.  Donaldson will do the same thing to other women.  For all I know, he already has.  “But he’s a Peacekeeper.  You know what the Capitol would do if he was murdered.”

 

“If they’ve got any sense, they’d throw a celebration party.”

 

“Peeta,” I sigh.  “This is serious.  If they found out it was you, they’d kill you.  I can’t have your death on my hands.  Not when I owe you so much.”

 

He brushes my words away.  “I told you, Katniss, you don’t owe me anything.”  

 

I reach a shaky hand out to him.  “Then don’t go after him because you’re my friend.  I need a friend right now.”

 

Peeta takes it, skimming his thumb over my fingers.  “I won’t do anything, Katniss.  Because you asked.  As a friend.”

 

“Thank you.”  I don’t know if I’m thanking him for the friendship, or for being there or, well, everything.  I just know that I owe a debt of gratitude to Peeta Mellark.

 

**oOo**

 

When Prim gets home, proudly carrying a chicken, Peeta and I sit down with her to have a talk.

 

We tell her that a Peacekeeper came by with one of her snares from the Meadow.  We don’t tell her who the Peacekeeper was or what actually happened, just that they’d given us a warning about poaching inside the fence.

 

I can see the horror dawning on my sister’s face.

 

“Oh my god!” she says, covering her mouth with one hand.  “We’re lucky we got off with a warning!”

 

I struggle to keep control of my face so as not to give anything away.  “Right, Prim.  We are lucky.  I think until the weather clears and we can get into the woods, we stick to what we can catch in our garden.”  That’s a legal gray area.  Technically it can be considered poaching since all game belongs to the Capitol.  But since it’s also considered pest control, most Peacekeepers ignore it.

 

“And no more sneaking out alone,” Peeta adds.  “You each need someone to watch your back.”

 

“You’re not my father!” Prim snaps, her eyes narrowing to slits.

 

“No, but Peeta’s right.  We both need someone to watch our backs.  It’s not safe out there.  Not just from Peacekeepers,” I say, stumbling over the words, “but from other predators.  We already lost Dad, I don’t think I could bear to lose you too.”

 

She scowls petulantly.  “You’re not my mother.”

 

“Until Mom gets better, you need to do what I say.”  Oh no, I didn’t mean to let that slip.  My eyes dart to Peeta, but he doesn’t seem to notice what I just said.  Thank goodness.

 

“What if she doesn’t get better?”  Prim crosses her arms.  “What if she dies?  Like Dad.”

 

“Then your sister will take care of you,” Peeta says.

 

“And why are you here?  You’re a merchant!  This doesn’t concern you!  None of this is any of your business!”

 

Peeta and I share a glance.  I’ve been letting Peeta take more of an active role in this confrontation than I should.  I’m glad he’s here.  I don’t think I could face Prim on my own, but my sister’s right, he isn’t family and this is a family concern.  I need to come up with some sort of excuse.  “Peeta’s a friend.”  

 

It’s a weak explanation.  One Prim doesn’t accept.  “That doesn’t answer my question.  Why is he here?”  She glares at me, her eyes defiant.

 

The words slip out, so soft I’m not sure anyone hears them.  “Because I need him to be.”  I flee from the room, leaving the two blonds to stare after me in shock.

 

**oOo**

 

A few days after my assault, Prim turns twelve.  The day starts off with an argument.  With our hunting activities curtailed because of the weather and the Peacekeepers, Prim is determined to take out tesserae.  I’m just as determined that she won’t.

 

“Prim, we don’t need it,” I tell her.  “Between my tesserae and Peeta’s, we’ll be okay!”

 

“Are you sure?”  Her voice is skeptical.  “I don’t want you to go to Cray again.”

 

I shiver at the thought of a Peacekeeper’s hands touching me.  “I don’t think that’s gonna happen.”

 

“Why not?  Something’s changed.”  She narrows her eyes at me.  “Is this because of Peeta?”

 

I seize on the opening she’s given me.  Anything to keep from talking about Donaldson.  “Yes.  Kind of.  Maybe.”

 

“Do you like Peeta?”

 

“Of course I like him.  He’s my friend!”

 

“It seems awfully sudden,” she says, her eyes never leaving my face.  

 

“Peeta’s just different.  He’s special.”  I don’t have to look in the mirror to feel the redness staining my cheeks.

 

“I was right!  You like him!”  She bounces a bit, letting a little bit of the innocent girl she still is shine through. But just as suddenly, the innocence is gone.  “Are you having sex with him?”  

 

“No!  I don’t like him that way.”  

 

Prim rolls her eyes.  “Sure.  Right.  I bet you wanna kiss him.”

 

“I haven’t even thought about it.”   Of course, now that Prim’s brought it up, I wonder what Peeta’s lips would feel like.  I wonder if they’ll be warm and hungry like Gale’s were.  Or wet and sloppy like my first kiss with Bran Hatfield was.  I deliberately keep my mind from both Cray and Donaldson’s kisses.  If I could, I’d happily forget those memories.

 

“I bet you’re thinking about it now,” she teases.

 

My blush deepens.  “It’s none of your business!” I snap, struggling to regain control of my expression.  “And if you keep acting like a little snot, I’ll… I’ll…”  I cast around for a suitable punishment.  “I’ll keep the surprise I have for you!”

 

My sister is enough of a child that the threat of withholding presents makes her instantly contrite.  “No, Katniss!  I’ll be good, I promise!  I even promise not to take out tesserae!  What’d you get me?”

 

I smile at her, pleased my gambit worked.  “You’ll find out at your party.”

 

**oOo**

 

Prim’s party is, by necessity, small.

 

My sister, who once was so social, is slowly pulling away from a lot of her friends.  Perhaps unsurprisingly, one of her closest friends is Hazelle’s son, Rory.  The boy doesn’t like me much, probably because of his brother.  But he doesn’t let his animosity toward me get in the way of Prim’s party.  There are also a few girls from the Seam in attendance.  But it’s nothing like the large party Prim had for her birthday last year.

 

I make a stew from the chicken Prim got a few days ago for the feast, and there’s a few tesserae griddle cakes with jam for dessert.  It isn’t much, but it’s the best we can do.

 

Prim asked Peeta to attend, much to my surprise considering how annoyed she seemed at him just a few days ago.  He’s been a fixture at our house ever since my attack, arriving early each morning to walk Prim and me to school, then making sure we get home safe before returning to the bakery for his shift there.  He’s also taken to bringing us freshly toasted sweet bread with a smear of butter each morning.  I can tell it’s days old, yet I still feel uncomfortable accepting it from him.  But seeing Prim and Aven’s eyes light up at the sweet treat, I don’t have the heart to say no.

 

No one says anything about our mother not being there, although I do see Peeta’s eyes regarding me curiously when I set aside a bowl to feed to her later.

 

“She had a patient,” I say, the lie falling from my lips with ease.  It’s the same lie I’ve been telling for months.

 

The kids buy it, but Peeta frowns, and I remember he was there for my argument with Prim and our slip.

 

After the feast, it’s time for presents.  My sister bounces in her seat in anticipation.  Watching her makes the whole party worth it.

 

Rory’s gift is practical: a spool of wire for Prim’s nets.  I wonder if he stole it from his big brother’s supplies, or if the eleven year old traded for it himself.  Prim gets a few ribbons and a couple of handkerchiefs from her other friends.  No one has a lot of money for gifts in the Seam, so most things are handmade or hand-me-downs.  Peeta’s gift goes over especially well: a package of iced sugar cookies with delicately painted flowers on them.

 

“They’re too pretty to eat!” my sister exclaims.

 

“But then they’ll go bad.  Don’t worry.  I made ‘em special for you, Prim.”  He gives her a wide smile and ruffles her hair affectionately.  “After all, it’s not every day that a girl turns twelve.”  

 

My sister blushes at his words.  I wonder if all of her talk from earlier is because she has a crush on the handsome baker boy too.

 

The boy in question reaches into his bag.  “Well, I suppose if you can’t eat the cookies, then this will just have to do.”  He pulls out a small frosted cake with paper wrapped around the bottom.

 

Prim stares at it in shock.  “What is it?”

 

“It’s called a cupcake.”

 

She reaches out with one finger and draws it through the frosting, bringing it to her mouth.  “Is this chocolate?”

 

“Yup.”

 

“It tastes like what heaven must taste like.”  Her voice is breathy.  Awestruck.

 

Peeta smiles at her.  “I don’t know about that, but I’m pretty sure it comes close.  It’s all yours, Prim.”

 

“Thank you!”

 

“Brown noser,” I mutter at him.

 

“Well, they say the way to a pre-teen’s heart is through her stomach.”

 

I want to tease him back, but part of me is a little jealous of all the attention he’s giving Prim.  It’s confusing.  To distract myself from my feelings, I go into the bedroom and pull out the box I’ve hidden underneath our mother’s bed.

 

Mom’s still the same as ever.  Even the noise of the party hasn’t stirred her from her daze.  

 

I wish it had.

 

I rejoin the party, carefully closing the door behind me, and place the box in my sister’s hands.  “Don’t shake it,” I warn her.

 

She gives me a funny look and shakes the box anyway, causing the occupant inside to let out a small cry.  Prim’s eyes widen and she tears the lid off to reveal a little bedraggled orange kitten with a pink ribbon wrapped around its neck.

 

“Happy birthday,” I say, smiling at my sister.

 

“A cat?”  She says it like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing.

 

“Well, you’ve always liked animals.  And I found this little one pawing through the garbage heap at the Hob.”

 

She tilts her head up to stare at me.  “You got me a cat?”

 

“Um, yeah.”  I’m nervous.  Maybe I should have gotten her something else.  “Do you like him?”

 

Prim lets out a squeal of joy and snuggles the kitten to her cheek.  “I love him!  Thank you, Katniss!  Thank you!”

 

“So have you thought of a name?” Peeta asks.

 

Prim studies the kitten for a moment, then nods.  “Yup.  I’m gonna call him Buttercup.”

 

**oOo**

 

The next day, when I step outside, I’m greeted by a horrible smell.  I walk around to the garden where Prim and I have set up several snares to find a skunk with wire wrapped around its neck.  The thing must have been going after our compost heap.  Not that we have much in there to begin with.  But there’s still a little bit.

 

I remember Sae’s words from earlier, that she’d take pretty much anything I manage to catch.  I wonder if she’ll take this stinky animal off my hands.  It’s worth a shot.

 

Finding the shirt Donaldson ruined, I wrap the skunk up to take to the Hob.

 

I pull Sae outside, not wanting to befoul the Hob with the dead creature’s smell.  And I’m sure Sae’s customers don’t want to know that tomorrow they’re going to be eating skunk stew.

 

We make our trade quickly.  I only get two coin for the animal, but it’s two more coin than I had before.  I’m glad to be rid of the stinky thing, telling Sae she can even keep the shirt.  While Prim’s and my clothes are starting to look a bit frayed around the edges, I don’t even want to look at the thing.  Out of desperation, I’ve started wearing my mother’s clothing.  It’s not really my preferred choice, but they say beggars can’t be choosers.

 

Sae leaves with the skunk, leaving me wondering if I should spend my newly earned coin or save it.

 

I’m still debating it when someone’s hand snakes around my waist, pulling me to him.

 

“You weren’t thinkin’ of heading into that illegal establishment, were you?” the voice that haunts my nightmares whispers into my ear.

 

I freeze.  My heart starts to race.  “Of course I wasn’t, Peacekeeper Donaldson.”  I don’t know how I manage to get the words out without stuttering.  

 

“Good.  Because I think there’s someplace else I’d rather have you.”

 

“Please, not now.  I’ve got school.”

 

He spins me around, pushing my back against the coal dust covered building.  “A cunt like you doesn’t need school.  The only education you need to receive is on your knees.”

 

He pushes me to the ground, my knees sinking into the cold snow.

 

“Please, Peacekeeper.  Not here.  Not now.”   I’m shivering, and it’s not from the cold.  I can’t believe this is going to happen again.  I’d rather be in the Games than here.  At least there I could do something to protect myself.  

 

He jerks his knee up into my chin.  My tongue gets caught between my teeth.  My eyes water in pain and the unmistakable coppery tang of blood fills my mouth.

 

I don’t fight.  I don’t even beg anymore.  I send a thought out to whoever’s listening that no one will see my shame.  Closing my eyes, I wait for the inevitable.  I hear the unmistakable sound of a zipper being drawn and feel something fleshy push against my lips.

 

“What the hell’s going on out here?”  The voice is masculine and familiar.  I can’t quite place it.

 

The flesh retreats, but not far.  I can still smell it.  “Go back inside, Freeman,” Donaldson snarls.

 

“Katniss?”  This time, the voice is tender.  

 

I open my eyes and see the redheaded Peacekeeper, Darius.  A blush surges up my cheeks and several tears manage to slip past my eyelashes.  I can’t tell what I’m feeling.  Some kind of mix of terror, relief, and embarrassment all rolled into one.  

 

Donaldson’s hand twitches, curling into a fist.   

 

I flinch away.

 

Darius witnesses the whole thing.  “Damn it, Donaldson!” he yells, striding over and pushing the other man down.  “You know this is against the rules.”

 

“This whore and me have an agreement.”  Donaldson’s mouth curls into a sneer.  “She wanted it.”

 

“A fifteen year old girl on her knees in the snow in public on a day she’s got school?  I don’t think so.”

 

“Go away.”  The yellow-eyed man clambers to his feet.  “This isn’t any of your business.”

 

Darius shoves him back down.  “It is my business when you’re terrorizing the locals.  No wonder you were sent here from Six.”

 

Donaldson spits in his face.  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

 

Several other Peacekeepers spill out of the Hob at the raised voices.  I shrink back against the wall, trying to disappear.  I don’t want anyone to witness my shame.  It’s bad enough that both Peeta and now Darius know.  I can’t bear for anyone else to find out.  

 

Hoisting my attacker up roughly, Darius pushes him toward the newcomers.  “Take this piece of trash to the brig.  I’m going to Cray.”

 

“You can’t do this,” Donaldson protests.

 

Darius stalks over, grabbing Donaldson’s uniform by the throat and jerking the yellow-eyed man so that their noses are almost touching.  “That’s where you’re wrong.”  His voice is quiet.  Deadly.  “You’re going to pay for this.  I’ll see to that.  Your days as a Peacekeeper are over.”

 

Donaldson tries to lash out at the red haired man, but he’s forcibly restrained by his guards.  They haul him away toward the barracks, my attacker shouting threats and obscenities until one of them has enough and stuns the man with some kind of electrical weapon.  

 

I watch the whole exchange in disbelief.  Peacekeepers saved me from of their own.  I can’t comprehend it.  The enormity of what almost happened again crashes down upon me.  I start to shake.  All I want to do is run home and lose myself in a hot bath, but I can’t even force myself to get to my feet.  

 

Darius approaches me slowly, like you would a wild animal caught in a snare.  “Hey,” he says, holding his hands up in an unthreatening manner.  “You’re safe now.  He’s not gonna hurt you.”

 

“He’ll come back,” I whisper.  Peeta was right.  Men like that won’t stop.

 

Darius’s sea green eyes harden.  “No.  He won’t, Katniss.  I promise.  He won’t ever hurt you again.”

 

I stare at him in shock, unable to say anything more.

 

He pulls out a handkerchief and starts dabbing gently at the corner of my mouth.  “No one is ever going to hurt you again.”  His mouth hardens into a thin line.  “I won’t let them.”

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 11/14/15  
> Revised: 6/15/16  
> Revised 2: 7/7/16  
> Betaread by: Amy & amelinazenitram
> 
> Okay. Summary for those people who do not want to read a chapter with these warnings. Basically, what happens is this. A really nasty Peacekeeper (an OC) blackmails Katniss into having sex with him in exchange for not turning in Prim to be whipped (possibly to death) for poaching. Peeta comforts her and they talk to Prim about being more careful. Prim has a birthday and Katniss gives her Buttercup as her present. A few days later, the same nasty Peacekeeper makes a reappearance. He almost forces Katniss to have another go when he’s stopped by Darius and a few other Peacekeepers, who haul him off for terrorizing the populace. The chapter ends with Darius being nice, almost chivalric, with Katniss, promising no one will ever hurt her again.
> 
> Or, as we say, bad stuff happens and Darius rides to the rescue.
> 
> As much as we would love Peeta to be Katniss’s knight in shining armor here (or for Katniss to save herself!), there was no way in hell Peeta had the level of power needed to pull it off. And as you might have noticed, Gale is not the third leg of the triangle. You have just been introduced to who is.
> 
> Another thing you may have noticed is that this Katniss is different from canon, while Prim is taking on more of a canon Katniss personality. These changes are deliberate, based off of the fact that Katniss got more time with her father and is older and thus able to handle the death and all of the stresses a little bit better, while Prim is left with the feelings of helplessness and hopelessness that Katniss had in canon. It’s amazing what one little change can do.
> 
> Things We Randomized:  
> \-- If they caught anything and what they caught.
> 
> Thanks for reading, especially considering the difficult nature of this chapter! Let us know what you think!


	5. Not By Misery

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ Darius approaches me slowly, like you would a wild animal caught in a snare.  “Hey,” he says, holding his hands up in an unthreatening manner.  “You’re safe now.  He’s not gonna hurt you.” _

 

_ “He’ll come back,” I whisper.  Peeta was right.  Men like that won’t stop. _

 

_ Darius’s sea green eyes harden.  “No.  He won’t, Katniss.  I promise.  He won’t ever hurt you again.” _

 

_ I stare at him in shock, unable to say anything more. _

 

_ He pulls out a handkerchief and starts dabbing gently at the corner of my mouth.  “No one is ever going to hurt you again.”  His mouth hardens into a thin line.  “I wo n’t let them.” _

 

**oOo**

 

**_“We all want to help one another.  Human beings are like that.  We want to live by each other’s happiness, not by each other’s misery.”_ **

**_― A Jewish Barber (The Great Dictator)_ **

 

**oOo**

 

Darius writes me an excuse to miss school.  I’m grateful.  I’m not capable of sitting through school today.  Not after what just happened.

 

Peeta and Prim will be worried, but I can’t handle dealing with anybody right now, not even them.  Aven’s with Hazelle for the day.  My mother is here, but she’s her usual blank self.  Being with her is as alone as I can get.  Now I just need to find a polite way to get the red-haired Peacekeeper to go away without pissing him off. Thankfully, Darius seems to sense I need my space.  He leaves once he escorts me home. 

 

Thank goodness.   

 

I spend much of the rest of the morning scrubbing myself off and trying to wash every last inch of Donaldson off of me.  I’m still shaky.  I can’t believe he tried again.  If Darius hadn’t been there…

 

I shiver.

 

Why did Darius intervene?  I’m confused.  I thought the Capitol wanted its citizens to be afraid.  Isn’t that what the Hunger Games are for?  To remind the Districts of the Capitol’s strength?  I don’t understand.  What’s even worse is that I now owe Darius a debt.  One I have no idea how to repay.  My thoughts are a kaleidoscope of confusion that not even sleep can overcome. 

 

I’m lying in bed when Peeta brings Prim and Aven home.  I’m able to wave them off, citing nausea.  The excuse explains why I don’t eat anything later and why the only thing I’m able to keep down is mint tea.

 

I know Prim will be satisfied, but I’m going to have to explain myself to Peeta tomorrow.  He knows something is up.  But he also knows I don’t want to discuss it in front of Prim.  So he doesn’t ask, not yet.

 

The next day, during lunch, he pulls me out into the schoolyard, motioning for Delly and Thom to start without us.  It’s private out here because it’s so cold.  My old threadbare winter jacket doesn’t close all the way and it’s tight across the shoulders.  I wish I could wear my father’s old hunting jacket, it would be warmer, but ever since I went to Cray, Prim seems to have claimed it for herself.  I haven’t asked her why.  I don’t need to.  The jacket is like Aven’s old blanket, it makes both of us feel safer and more secure.  I don’t have the heart to take that away from her, even though I’m freezing.  

 

Seeing my discomfort, Peeta takes his off and hands it to me.  I accept his offer, knowing he’ll keep pushing until I do.  The warmth seeps into my skin, surrounding me with the soothing smells of baking bread and heated sugar.

 

“What really happened yesterday?”

 

I don’t say anything.

 

He narrows his eyes.  “Katniss.  Did that Peacekeeper come after you again?”

 

I look away but nod.

 

Peeta swears.  “I’m gonna kill him.  I don’t care if he’s a Peacekeeper.  I’m gonna kill him.”

 

“Don’t say that!”  I glance around nervously, hoping no one overheard.  The coast seems to be clear.  Time to level with Peeta.  “Besides, he didn’t get a chance to do anything.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“A couple other Peacekeepers came by, saw it happening, made him stop.  They even arrested him.”

 

“Why?”  Of course he would ask that question, the one I don’t have an answer to.

 

“I don’t know.”  I shrug.  “Darius said they’re not supposed to terrorize the populace or something like that.  It’s all kind of a blur.  Darius wrote me a note so I wouldn't have to go school afterwards.”

 

He goes from angry to concerned in an instant.  “Are you okay, Katniss?  Did he hurt you?”  

 

I assume he means Donaldson, not Darius.  “I’m still kind of shaky, and not from the cold either.  And I bit my tongue.”  I look up at him.  “I’ll be okay.”

 

Peeta shakes his head.  “I’m gonna walk you home now.”

 

“Why?”

 

“I bet you didn’t sleep last night, did you?”

 

“A little.”  It’s not a lie.  The warmth of Prim and Aven curled up against me lulled me into sleep a few hours before dawn.  But even their comfort wasn’t enough to stop the nightmares. 

 

“But not enough,” he says, narrowing his eyes.  “I’m taking you home, Katniss.  And you’re gonna get some sleep.  If anyone asks, we’ll just say you’re still sick.  I mean, you’ve got that note, right?”

 

I nod. 

 

“So that means you can rest today.  You need it.”

 

He’s not wrong.  “But what about Prim?”

 

“I’ll come back to get Prim and Aven later.”  His features morph into an expression of resolve.  “But I’m staying with you while you sleep.  I’ll make sure nothing happens to you.”  

 

For some reason, a flood of warmth flows through me.  Knowing I’ll be protected while I sleep is a relief.  Maybe knowing I’ve got someone there to keep me safe will chase the nightmares away.  I reach out and give his hand a quick squeeze.  “Thank you,” I murmur.  “Thank you for everything.”

 

**oOo**

 

I return to school the next day even though I’d rather not.  Peeta refuses to let me and Prim walk alone even though I remind him Donaldson is gone.  He insists on watching over both of us as much as possible.  I don’t protest too much.  I don’t feel safe in Twelve.  The mere sight of those white uniforms is enough to cause my stomach to lurch in fear. 

 

There are rumors around town a Peacekeeper has been arrested for abusing his power, but no one seems to know the real story except for me, Peeta, and Darius.  I’m grateful for that.  I don’t want people to know it was me.

 

After Peeta brought me home yesterday, I was able to get a few hours of sleep.  When I woke up, the house smelled like sugar.  My stomach rumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything since the day before.  Peeking my head into the kitchen, I was met with a surprise.  Somehow Peeta managed to make tesserae grain into something edible, a hearty dark bread with an almost sweet flavor.

 

Without saying anything, he sliced a thick piece off of one of the cooling loaves and handed it to me.  

 

Rich, yeasty nuttiness exploded over my tongue.   Who knew tesserae bread could taste this good?  “I could eat this every day for the rest of my life.”  The words slipped out before I could stop them.

 

Peeta blushed.  “If that’s what you want.”

 

As I replay the conversation in my head while doodling in class, I feel a little stab of guilt.  I know Peeta’s got feelings for me.  He’s as good as admitted it out loud and he shows it every day in his actions.  The problem is I don’t know how I feel about him.  I trust Peeta more than any other man, but that’s not saying much.  I’m not sure I trust any man at all right now, including Peeta.  

 

I hate not being able to give him the answer I feel he deserves.  But I just can’t overcome the fear.

 

Peeta walks us home the following day, but he can’t stay, much to my disappointment.  He’s needed in the family bakery and his mother’s starting to wonder why he’s late so often.  “She thinks I have a girlfriend,” he tells us, “and she’s trying to snoop around to find out who.”

 

“But you do have a girlfriend.”  Prim looks back and forth between us, her eyes filled with confusion.  “Katniss is your girlfriend!”

 

A sardonic twist flits across Peeta’s lips.  “That’s not my call to make.”  Before either of us has a chance to reply, he waves goodbye and walks toward town.

 

As much as I like Peeta and wish he could stay, another part of me is glad to see him go.  It’s hard having so many contradictory emotions regarding him.  I need time to sort through my feelings, and I can’t do that with him there.  

 

Prim and I start on our chores once he’s gone.  There’s always things which need to be done: mending, cooking, cleaning, as well as taking care of our brother.  It’s just one more constant here in the Seam.

 

We work in silence with Prim patching one of my socks while I scrub the floors of the bedroom.  In the past, we’d chatted or sung songs to pass the time, but after everything that’s happened, there really aren’t any safe subjects for us.  The hours pass until there’s a knock at the door.  I freeze, the scrub brush clenched in my hands.  Donaldson’s yellow eyes flash through my mind.  I remind myself I’m safe.  That he’s in jail where he can’t hurt me.  It doesn’t help.  Taking a deep breath, I wonder if the time will come when someone knocking at the door won’t fill me with dread.  I hope it’s soon.

 

Oblivious to my terror, Prim goes to answer it.  She comes back into the room, saying, “Katniss, there’s someone here to see you.”  There’s concern in her tone, her eyes darting nervously to the door.

 

Forcing myself to my feet, I walk into the main room.  My hands are trembling and I shove them into my pockets to hide the shaking.  But doing that doesn’t stop my thoughts from racing.  Is Donaldson back?  Is he here to take revenge?

 

I see Peacekeeper white standing in the doorway and the world shifts.  My heart pounds.  My chest feels tight.  My vision blurs.  I need to get out of here!

 

“Katniss, it’s okay,” a warm, familiar voice says.  “It’s me.  Darius.”

 

I stop searching for an escape and blink, shifting the world back into focus.  The voice was right, it is Darius.  He’s dressed in his Peacekeeper’s uniform, his white gloved hands outstretched as if to calm me.

 

“Peacekeeper Freeman.”  I try to keep my voice even but I’m not entirely successful.  “What can I do for you?”

 

The man takes a step back to give me more space.  “No need to be so formal,” he says, an easy smile crossing his lips.  “It’s Darius.  I start to shake in terror any time I hear Peacekeeper Freeman.  Makes me think my boss is about to chew me out.”  The smile becomes warmer, more hopeful.  “Can I come in?”

 

I step to one side, noticing Prim, with Aven in her arms, hovering in the background.  

 

Darius turns his head, taking in the main room.  “You’ve got a lovely home, Katniss.”

 

No one’s ever said that before.  Probably because it’s not true.  Our home is just like any other Seam home: small, dark, and full of things we made ourselves.  “Thank you?” I say, uncertain.

 

“No, really, I mean it.”  He shifts, his eyes lingering on the few family pictures we have displayed.  “It’s nice.  Homey.  Nothing like the quarters we Peacekeepers get.”

 

“What are your quarters like?”  Prim’s voice is curious.

 

“Well, imagine a room about this size,” he motions to the main room, “but with gray and white flecked tile floors and all white walls.  Everything’s white.  The ceiling, the floor, and everything in between.  White dresser, white bed, white chair, white table.  Even the toilet’s white.”

 

My sister makes a face.  “You mean there’s no color?”

 

“Yup!”   

  
“Sounds…”  I struggle for a word.  Boring would be unkind.  “...clean?”

 

Darius laughs.  “I think the word you’re looking for is boring.”  His voice shifts, becomes warmer.  “I could put in for a house, I’ve got enough seniority, but I don’t really see a point without someone to go home to.”

 

I wonder why he’s telling me this.  

 

My confusion must show on my face, because he waves it away.  “Oh, don’t mind me, Katniss.  That’s not why I’m here anyway.”

 

“Why are you here?” Prim speaks up before I can.  

 

“I wanted to see how your sister’s doing.”

 

Aven fusses to be put down and Prim complies.  My brother quickly toddles to one of his few toys and starts playing with it.

 

While Prim’s distracted, I shake my head as subtly as I can, indicating for him not to say anything.  My sister doesn’t know about either attack and I want to keep it that way.  “Well, as you can see, I’m fine.  Thank you for escorting me home the other day after I got sick on the way to the Hob.  I’m guessing that flu just came on me out of nowhere.”  I hope my lie is convincing.  

 

Darius’s gaze flicks to Prim and Aven, then back to me, understanding and respect dawning in his eyes.  “I’m just glad I found you before anything bad happened.”  

 

I breathe a sigh of relief.  He’s corroborating my story.

 

Shifting his weight from foot to foot, he continues, “In fact, I got something for you.”

 

“For me?”

 

“Yeah.”  From the pouch on his back, he pulls out a soft package wrapped in brown paper and string.  “For you.  I saw it yesterday and I thought of you.”

 

I take it hesitantly.  With Prim here, there’s no way I can turn it down.  Not without prompting a slew of questions I’m unable and unwilling to answer.  I open it to reveal a soft gray knitted shawl.  It’s pretty, but it’s also useful.  Darius must have noticed my coat doesn’t fit correctly and got this as a substitute.  Does he think Donaldson ruined my coat during the attack at the Hob?  Is this Darius trying to apologize to me for not stopping it sooner?

 

It doesn’t really matter.  I can’t refuse his gift even if I want to, which part of me, to my surprise, doesn’t.  We need winter clothing.  I need winter clothing.  Most of what I have is too small, threadbare, or both.  I look up at him, gratitude in my eyes.  “Thank you.  This was kind of you.”

 

“It’s nothing, Katniss.  I’m happy you like it.”  His sea green eyes twinkle with pleasure.  He turns to Prim.  “If it’s okay with you, do you mind if I steal your sister for a little while?”

 

“Um… Sure?”  Prim regards him in confusion.  “Don’t know why you’re asking me, but okay.”

 

“Thanks.  If it’s alright with you, Katniss?”  

 

There’s something in his stance.  Like he’s nervous.  I suspect he wants to talk about my attack away from my younger siblings’ ears.  Grabbing my coat and new shawl, I instruct Prim,  “Make sure Aven eats.  And try to leave me some bread.”

 

“But it’s good!” she protests.

 

“I know.  That’s why I want some of it.”

 

She pouts a little before saying, “Fine.”

 

He motions me through the door.  The air outside is still bitterly cold and I’m grateful for Darius’s gift.  Even though it’s just one more thing that I owe him for.  

 

“So… what’d you want to talk about?” I ask once I’m sure we’re out of earshot.

 

“I wanted to see how you were, after the other day.”  He blows on his gloved hands, his eyes never leaving me.  I wonder, inanely, if his gloves are more for show than warmth.  They must be, because he blows on them again before adding, “And I wanted to check up on you, make sure you knew Donaldson’s still in jail.  It’s pretty likely he’s gonna face Capitol justice.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“Because you deserve to know.”  He rubs his hands against his thighs, like he’s wishing he had pockets to shove them into.  “Not all Peacekeepers are like him.”  His voice is soft, vulnerable.  “In fact, most of us aren’t.  We’re just doing a job, like anyone else.  Trying to save up money to have a family.”

 

I look at him in confusion.  “I thought--”  I stop, not willing to complete the sentence.

 

Darius finishes it for me.  “You thought Peacekeepers don’t have families.  I’m not surprised.”  He lets out a deep breath and rubs his arms.  “We’re not allowed to get married until after our tour of duty is over and we’re sent back to Two.”

 

I tilt my head.  “Why Two?”

 

“Because most of us are from Two... or the Capitol,” he answers, “but not all of us.  The Capitol likes to fill up the ranks with orphans from other districts.  Kids under the age of eight are tested, and if they pass, they get sent to Two for further training.  They pretty much remove all traces of who we were, even our names get changed.  All the orphans end up with the last name Freeman.”

 

I’m not sure why he’s telling me this, but there’s only one reason that makes any sense.  “Did that happen to you?”

 

Darius nods, blowing into his hands again.  “I’m from Four, originally.  It’s why I hate the cold.”  He flashes a quick grin at me.  “It’s a lot warmer down there.”

 

I nod even though all I know about Four is what I’ve seen on the Games or learned about in school.  Which is to say, not much.

 

“My parents were killed when their boat sank during a storm,” Darius continues.  “Me and my brother and sisters all got sent to the Community Home.  The older ones ended up in the Career Camp, but I was the youngest.  So I got sent to Two to become a Peacekeeper.”  He sighs.  “I do my best to keep track of them.”

 

“How?”  I would think the Capitol wouldn’t allow that.  

 

He blushes a little.  “I’m not supposed to admit it, but my brother might have won one of the Hunger Games.”

 

The only male Victor from Four I can think of is Finnick Odair.  But that can’t be right.  I stare at Darius, looking for similarities.  The resemblance starts to solidify.  They have the same sea green eyes.

 

Those eyes crinkle in amusement.  “I see you’ve figured it out.  I promise I’m not the playboy my brother is.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?”

 

“I don’t know.  I thought you could use a friend.”  He looks down.  “I could.”   
  


People who want to be my friend seem to be popping out of the woodwork a lot lately.  First Peeta, then Delly, and now Darius.  Next thing I know, Haymitch Abernathy will be pounding at my door, asking me to become his new best friend.  I wonder if it’s something in the air?

 

Darius looks over at me.  “So, I was wondering if a friend could share a bowl of soup with you?  No pressure.”

 

I don’t know what to say.  He looks so hopeful.  So open.

 

But he’s a Peacekeeper.  The enemy.  

 

I take in his expression again and think back on what he just revealed to me.  Maybe he’s not the enemy.  Maybe I need to figure out who the real enemy is.  And if I’m going to do that, I need to give this man standing so earnestly in front of me a chance.

 

“Sure.  I’d like that.”

 

His answering smile could outshine the sun.

 

**oOo**

 

I get a break from confusing men when the skies decide to unleash hell in the form of blowing snow and wind.

 

School is canceled for a few days due to the blizzard, which is both a blessing and a curse.  As much as both Prim and I don’t see the point of attending, going to school is a reason to get out of the house and away from our mother.  

 

It’s been almost three months since my father died, and my mother doesn’t show any sign of shaking off her depression.  If anything, she’s been sinking into it even more.  Early on, she’d still take care of her bodily needs, and if we placed food in front of her, she’d eat it woodenly.  Lately, she’s not even doing that, and it’s putting a strain on all of us.

 

Especially Prim.

 

“Why doesn’t she just snap out of it?”

 

“She’s in mourning,” I try to explain.

 

“People die all the time!”  Prim gestures at our mother, who is lying in her bed, staring blankly up at the ceiling.  “They don’t do this!  Hazelle didn’t do this when her husband died.”

 

“Mom’s not Hazelle.”

 

She huffs.  “Obviously.”

 

“Mom loved Dad.”

 

Prim rolls her eyes.  “Duh.”

 

“No.”  I shake my head.  “Really loved him.  Like gave up her whole life, everything she knew, for him.  She was a merchant, Prim.  She never had to take out tesserae.  She never went to bed hungry.  She gave all that up to marry Dad.”

 

“She was stupid.”

 

“She was in love.”    

 

“I’m never gonna fall in love.”  Her voice hardens.  “Never.”

 

My stomach clenches.  This isn’t the sister I’m used to.  The one who used to beg for stories and songs.  This is the sister I’ve had to share parenting duties with.  The one who’s had to become an adult in the space of a few months.  “Don’t say that, Prim,” I beg, wishing with all of my heart I could reach the sweet girl I know is hiding deep inside.  

 

“Why?  It’s true,” Prim snaps, dashing my hopes even more.  “I’m never gonna fall in love.  I’m never gonna get married.  If this is what love does to you, I don’t want any part of it.”

 

“You’re just seeing the bad side.  There’s good too.”  Our parents’ love was beautiful, like those stories they used to tell us in kindergarten.  Yes, now that Dad’s gone, Mom is a broken shell.  But they had twenty years together.  Twenty years I know neither of them would ever give up.  They were happy together.  Deliriously happy, despite everything.  If Prim can’t see that… well, I’m not sure how to explain it to her.

 

“Nothing is good enough to justify this.”  She shakes her head at our mother, who’s ignored our entire conversation.  “Love just leads to pain.  To suffering.  And I don’t want any part of it.”  Prim’s flinty eyes meet mine.  “And nothing you can say will make me change my mind.”

 

I feel my heart break a bit in that moment.  My baby sister is gone.  In her place stands this broken bird, and I don’t know what I can do to fix it.

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 11/14/15  
> Revised: 7/11/16   
> Revised 2: 8/2/16  
> Betaread by: Amy, Xerxia, and gentlemama
> 
> And here’s another instance where Prim is taking on more of the Katniss role in this fic. She’s the one who doesn’t want love or marriage or family. She’s the one who’s afraid of loss. It has a lot to do with their ages. In this fic, Katniss is older. She’s had relationships prior to her father dying, teenage relationships, but she’s had some. She’s had more of a “normal” childhood so she’s a little more well-adjusted in that sense. That doesn’t mean she’s not the Katniss we know and love. She’s just a little different. 
> 
> We decided to take a page from Deathmallow’s “Long Road Home” series and use her headcanon that the Peacekeeper Corps is filled out with kids from the Community Homes. As for Darius being Finnick’s younger brother, that’s our own headcanon. We’ll get more into Darius’s backstory later. 
> 
> We’ll also see what happened with Donaldson later as well. 
> 
> Nothing was randomized in this chapter.
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!


	6. Better Off Buyin' Chickens

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ “Why?  It’s true,” Prim snaps, dashing my hopes even more.  “I’m never gonna fall in love.  I’m never gonna get married.  If this is what love does to you, I don’t want any part of it.” _

 

_ “You’re just seeing the bad side.  There’s good too.”  Our parents’ love was beautiful, like those stories they used to tell us in kindergarten.  Yes, now that Dad’s gone, Mom is a broken shell.  But they had twenty years together.  Twenty years I know neither of them would ever give up.  They were happy together.  Deliriously happy, despite everything.  If Prim can’t see that… well, I’m not sure how to explain it to her. _

 

_ “Nothing is good enough to justify this.”  She shakes her head at our mother, who’s ignored our entire conversation.  “Love just leads to pain.  To suffering.  And I don’t want any part of it.”  Prim’s flinty eyes meet mine.  “And nothing you can say will make me change my mind.” _

 

_ I feel my heart break a bit in that moment.  My baby sister is gone.  In her place stands this broken bird, and I don’t know what I can do to fix it. _

 

**oOo**

 

Chapter Six: Better Off Buyin’ Chickens

 

**oOo**

 

_ “If you know somethin’ well you can always paint it, but people would be better off buyin’ chickens.”  
― Grandma Moses _

 

**oOo**

 

When the weather finally clears enough for us to go back to class, the school administrator greets us with an unwelcome surprise: a visitor from the Capitol.  An undercurrent of trepidation spreads through the students like a hurricane.  The same questions are whispered by everyone: ‘Who is it?  Why are they here?  What do they want?’  

 

We get the answer once the entire upper school is assembled.  There, a visibly nervous Mr. Filbert introduces a special guest: the newly appointed Education Minister of Panem, Dania de Laurentis.  The school administrator’s announcement does nothing to calm the storm.  If anything, it worsens it.

 

The minister, an emaciated woman with bright purple and blue streaked hair, minces up on stage.  Her rainbow-hued clothes make Effie Trinket’s look positively sensible.  Her silver sandals gleam in the coal oil lights, matching the bright sequins on the woman’s suit.  Everything about her screams Capitol bigwig.  Right down to her affected little cough to test the auditorium speakers.  

 

“Thank you!  Thank you so much!” she trills in her lilting accent at our anemic applause.  “I am overjoyed at your generous and enthusiastic welcome!”

 

On either side of me, Peeta and Thom let out identical snorts of disbelief.  I struggle not to follow suit.  Enthusiastic is the last word I’d use to describe my classmates’ welcome.   

 

Oblivious to our lack of interest, the woman continues.  “Since next year is the seventy fifth anniversary of the Hunger Games,” Minister de Laurentis twitters, sounding like a strangled bird, “President Snow has decided, in his boundless and infinite wisdom, that one special student from each district will be privileged enough to get a front row seat at those momentous Games.”  She claps.  “Isn’t that exciting?”

 

No one answers.  

 

“Now, before you ask, because I know you will,” she gives us an exaggerated wink, “this does mean you will still have the chance to participate in both the Seventy Fourth and Seventy Fifth Hunger Games, depending, of course, on whatever special twist the original Gamemakers, what vaunted men and women they were, planned for the Third Quarter Quell.  I know you’re all excited to hear that!”  

 

There are murmurs from the crowd.  No one is excited to hear that.

 

“However,” she continues, heedless of the underlying tension, “the lucky winner from each district will accompany the chosen tributes to the Capitol, where you will have the incredible opportunity to watch the Quell from the luxury of President Snow’s own mansion.  There, you will be fitted for Capitol clothing, you will taste Capitol food, and for the length of the Games, you will be treated to the full Hunger Games experience.  Isn’t that thrilling?”

 

A few of my classmates, including Delly, seem optimistic about the contest.  The rest definitely don’t.

 

“Any questions?”  She blinks at us expectantly.  

 

Silence greets her.

 

“Really?”  She seems surprised.  “I’d have thought someone would like to know more.  Get the scoop, so to speak!”

 

Somebody calls out, “Why are they doing this now?  The Quell’s not ‘til next year.”

 

“Yeah,” someone else pipes up, “I won’t even be eligible for the Quell.”

 

“Well, that’s why we have one of the junior classes here with us.  They’ll also be participating.”  She waves her hand at a group I hadn’t noticed before, the oldest year of the lower school.  “However, President Snow didn’t want to take this wonderful opportunity away from our eighteen year olds.  Therefore, each and every single one of you will have the chance to compete for this prize.”  De Laurentis claps again.  “To win, you must write and submit an essay about the Hunger Games.  Make your essay personal.  Tell us why the Games are important and how they affect you.  All of the essays will be read by a committee in the Capitol, and the winner from each district will be the best, the most exciting, the most interesting entry.”  She pauses, drawing an overly affected breath.  “It could be any one of you!”

 

A voice I recognize, Gale’s, asks from the row behind me, “So we’re supposed to write an essay about why we like the Hunger Games?”  He sounds disbelieving. 

 

“Yes!”  She clasps her hands together.  “Write one thousand of your best words about what the Hunger Games mean to you.”

 

“I don’t need a thousand words for that,” Gale mutters.  “I’ve got three.  Forty.  Two.  Slips.”

 

Thom elbows his leg.  

 

The Education Minister smiles brightly at Gale, completely missing his true meaning.  “Well, that’s what it might mean for you!  Extra food for your family.  It might mean something very different to, I don’t know, Miss Undersee, for example.”  She turns to the Mayor’s daughter.  She’s probably the only student in District Twelve Minister de Laurentis knows by name.  “Madge, what does it mean to you?”

 

Madge freezes, her hand wrapped in Johnny Mellark’s.  “Um, the Hunger Games are a chance for our district to show our true strength of character by, um…”  She ducks her head.  “I’m not good at public speaking.”  I feel a twinge of sympathy for her, being put on the spot like that.  

 

“That’s okay, dear,” the minister says, taking pity on the girl.  “That would be a lovely essay once you’ve found the right words.  I look forward to reading your complete thoughts on the subject.”

 

Somebody else raises their hand.  “Do we have to do this?”

 

Minister de Laurentis taps the side of her bright purple mouth.  “Well, President Snow was adamant that participation is voluntary, but honestly, I don’t understand why anybody would turn down such a magnificent opportunity!”

 

Peeta leans over to me.  “Clearly they’re not from District Twelve.”

 

“When is the essay due?” someone asks.

 

“Oh, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you!” she gasps.  “Thank you so much for asking!  We want to give you plenty of time to brainstorm and write the perfect entry.  Essays will be collected on the last day of school, May Thirtieth.  So you’ll have plenty of time to choose your one thousand best words!”

 

I turn my head, my eyes finding Thom’s.  I can tell he doesn’t see the point.  I don’t either.  Gale’s sarcastic response of forty two slips strikes a chord.  He’s stupid to say it where someone from the Capitol can hear, but he’s not wrong.  Going into the Games isn’t a good thing here in Twelve.  If you’re Reaped, you’re dead.  Even though the minister hasn’t stated it outright, I’m sure the Capitol expects the essays to effuse about glory and the greatness of the Games.  

 

I think about the ten slips with my name on them.  When my father died, the Capitol stopped providing tesserae for his portion, but my name’s still in the bowl for him.  It’s not fair.  But nothing about the tesserae system is fair.  At least Prim will only have one slip.  I’ll make sure of it.

 

**oOo**

 

The assembly drones on all morning.  After answering more questions and gushing about the ‘amazing opportunity’ the Quell Contest affords, the Education Minister switches gears, highlighting new reforms and changes to the curriculum so that ‘no child will be left behind.’  Whatever that means.  I don’t bother paying attention for most of it, instead playing a game with Peeta to pass the time.

 

When we finally break for lunch, Delly, Thom, Peeta, and myself snag our normal spot.  Once again, Peeta’s brought something for the whole group, this time an herb stuffing made with stale bread.  

 

“So what do you think of all that?” Thom asks without any preamble.

 

“I think it’s great!” Delly exclaims, dishing out the food before anyone can object.  “I’d love to see the Capitol!  I bet everyone’s so pretty and nice.”

 

Thom and I exchange a look.  

 

“Are you for real?”  I can’t quite keep the disbelief out of my voice.

 

The bright girl pauses, her spoon hovering over Thom’s bowl.  “Oh, I’m sorry, I just get excited about things.  But wouldn’t it be great?”  She returns to her task as she talks.  “I’d love to be able to go to the Capitol without having to worry about competing in the Games, wouldn’t you?”  She doesn’t wait for an answer.  “To be able to eat all of that food?  See those sights?  Knowing you can do it and not die?  It’d be like a dream come true.”  She regards our group, taking in our expressions.  She must not like what she sees because she sighs, deflating a little.  “I mean, I’d like to go to the Capitol.  I’d like to go everywhere.  I’d like to see everything, meet everyone.  I know it’s a silly dream, but…”  Delly shrugs, picking at her food.  “I just want to see what the world’s like beyond the fence.”

 

I feel bad for putting her down and I extend my hand out to her.  “It’s okay.  We all have silly dreams.”

 

She smiles at me but doesn’t take my hand.  “What’s your dream, Katniss?”

 

I don’t have to give it a lot of thought; it’s been the same dream I’ve had since Aven was born.  Seeing how happy my parents were cemented it for me.  “I’d like a family someday.  I’d like to know my kids won’t be Reaped.  I’d like to have the same love my parents did,” I admit, remembering how my mother looked at my father.  He was the sun which made her flowers bloom.  I want the same thing for myself.  I just don’t want it to end in tragedy like my parents’ love did.  And I know what caused it.  “I don’t want to work in the mines.  They killed my father.  But… the feelings, those are what I really want.  I want to be happy.  I want to be loved.  I want to know my family will be fed and we’ll be safe.  That we won’t have to be scared.”  I realize I’ve said too much and I glance down at the table, my fingers tracing the wood grain.  

 

Peeta places his hand on mine.  “Sounds like a good dream.”

 

“Yeah, but it’s probably not gonna happen.”  Not anymore.  I don’t know if I’m going to survive the winter, much less a lifetime.  

 

“Hey,” Thom says, poking me in the forehead with his spoon, “don’t give up hope.  Who knows?  Maybe you’ll get the fairytale.  Who knows?  Maybe Delly here will win that trip to the Capitol.”

 

I give my friend a small smile.  “Thanks.  But I think Delly’s got a better chance of her dream coming true than I do of getting mine.”  

 

I glance around the table to see expressions of sympathy from Delly and Thom.  But on Peeta’s face, there’s an expression I don’t expect.

 

Determination.

 

**oOo**

 

After school, Prim wanders off, eager to have a little more time to work off her restlessness.  I don’t argue.  She’ll be happier if she spends the afternoon out of the house.  We all spent too much time cooped up during the blizzard.  I wish I could indulge my wanderlust as well, but I’ve got other responsibilities.

 

Peeta and I go together to collect Aven from Hazelle, who gives the baker’s boy a strange look.  I know what she’s wondering.  Why is this merchant hanging around with a girl from the Seam?  From the set of her lips, I know the woman doesn’t approve of the association.  I’ve got to smooth her ruffled feathers and fast.  I can’t afford to try to find another person to watch Aven while I’m at school. 

 

Thinking up an explanation, I answer her unasked question, “Peeta’s family.  His brother’s married to my cousin.”  It’s got the benefit of being the truth.  Even though I’ve never spoken to my cousin and we barely consider each other family at all.

 

Hazelle nods, her frown easing.  We understand family obligation in the Seam.  

 

But it’s not the real reason why Peeta’s with me.  In fact, I’m not really sure why Peeta’s walking me home anymore.  With Donaldson’s arrest, I don’t need the protection.

 

The walk back to my house is quiet.  The silence only broken by Aven chattering about the adventures he and Posy got into today.

 

When we get inside, I set Aven down on the floor, noticing he’s missing his hat.  We must have left it at the Hawthornes’.  I’ll need to get it later.  I give my little brother a toy and turn him loose to play.   He dives under the kitchen table with his prize, a carved bear.  A few seconds later, he’s growling and chattering to himself, reenacting one of the hunting stories my father used to tell us.

 

I indulge in watching Aven play before turning to Peeta.  “Thanks for walking me home.  I know it’s out of your way.”

 

“It’s no problem.”

 

“You don’t need to, if you’ve got other places to be.”  I know both he and Johnny still work at the bakery.  His mother wouldn’t approve of her son wasting time with a girl from the Seam.

 

“Don’t worry about it,” he dismisses my words with a wave of his hand.  Draping his coat over the back of a chair, he pulls down our grain mill and sets it on the table.  He’s getting ready to make more bread for us.  Even though he’s already helped us so much, he still feels the need to do more.

 

I can’t contain my curiosity any longer.  “Why are you walking me home?”

 

Pausing in his task, he looks up at me, his eyes intent.  “I told you, to keep you safe.”

 

“But I’m fine.  Darius would tell me if I were in any danger.”

 

His jaw twitches.  Slowly, deliberately, he fills the mill before saying, “Um, so, I was thinking, for the essay.  I’m not very good with words, but maybe I could draw a picture or something.”

 

“Peeta, don’t change the subject.”

 

“I like walking you home, Katniss,” he says, turning the handle of the mill round and round.  He pauses, rubbing the back of his neck.  “I mean, we’re friends, right?  Friends can walk each other home.”

 

I’m still confused.  Thom never walks me home and the only time any guy ever has was when we were dating.  And I’m not dating Peeta.

 

I decide not to push any further.  “I don’t know if I’m going to write anything,” I say instead as I hang Aven’s jacket and my shawl on their hooks.

 

His shoulders untense and he resumes his grinding.  “Why not?”

 

“Doesn’t seem to be a point.”  I shrug.  “Even if I did get selected to go to the Capitol, it’s not like I could go.”

 

His brow furrows.  “Why not?”

 

“Prim and Aven need me.”

 

Peeta frowns, looking around.  “What about your mom?”

 

I freeze, realizing I’ve said too much.  “Mom’s busy.  She has to work.”

 

“Is that why I’ve never seen her?”  He pours more grain into the mill.  “Is that why she wasn’t at Prim’s birthday party?”

 

“Yeah.  Yes,” I say quickly, trying to cover my fumble.  “She’s really busy.  You don’t know how hard it is here in the Seam, you know.  People constantly get hurt, need healing.  Babies are born every day.”  I turn away, pulling out the rest of the ingredients we’re going to need.  

 

“Yeah, that’s true.  But your mom should be home sometimes.”  Peeta comes over to grab a bowl to put the coarse flour into.  “She’s never here.  Not in the morning when I pick you up for school, not in the afternoon when I drop you off.  She wasn’t here when you were attacked.  Either time!”  He peers down at me, his blue eyes taking in everything.  “Where was she?” he asks, his voice deathly quiet.  “Why didn’t she take care of you?”

 

I blanch, trying to think of something to say to deflect this line of questioning, but Peeta’s brain moves too quickly.

 

“Your mom’s dead, isn’t she?  And you’re hiding it!”

 

“No!” I exclaim, my heart pounding.

 

“Then where is she, Katniss?” he demands.  “Why isn’t she helping you?  Why do you have to take all this responsibility?  Why are you in charge of the family?”

 

I stare at him, trying to come up with an explanation other than the truth.  The truth is too dangerous.  The fewer people who know, the better.  But I can’t.  I don’t want to lie to Peeta, not when he’s done so much for me.  It’d feel like a betrayal, and I can’t bear that.  

 

I come to a decision.  Glancing at Aven, who’s still playing under the table, I take several steadying breaths.  “Can you keep a secret?” 

 

His hand brushes my elbow.  “You know I can.”

 

“Mom’s been here the whole time.”  I lead him to the bedroom door.  Screwing up my courage, I open it to reveal what’s inside.

 

Peeta gasps.  I know what he sees: a merchant woman, old before her time, lying motionless in her bed.  Her once blonde hair has gone gray at the roots and hangs lank and limp around her face.  Her expression is haggard, her body gaunt.  She’s not the vibrant healer of the Seam she was only a few months ago.  “What’s wrong with her?”

 

I shake my head.  “I don’t know.  She’s been like this since my father died.  Nothing any of us say or do gets through to her.  It’s like she’s willing herself to die, but her body hasn’t quite caught up.”

 

“What are you going to do?”  He’s asking about the future.  A future I’m not quite ready to face. 

 

“I can’t tell anyone,” I say in a low tone.  “They’ll take us away.  And...”  I remember Darius’s words about how they take children, especially young ones, from the Community Homes to fill out the Peacekeeper ranks.  “And we’ll probably never see Aven again.”

 

Peeta gives me a look.

 

I refuse to explain.  It’s something Darius told me in confidence, I don’t feel right sharing it.  Instead I concentrate on the present.  “No one can know.  Until Mom gets better, this stays between us.”

 

“Is she gonna get better?”  The question is pointed.  

 

“She has to.”  If she doesn’t… I can’t finish the thought. 

 

Thankfully I don’t have to because there’s a knock on the door.

 

Peeta and I exchange a glance.

 

Prim wouldn’t knock.  I wonder if it’s Hazelle or one of the Hawthorne kids, bringing us Aven’s missing hat.  It doesn’t have that official Peacekeeper quality to it.  It sounds more impatient.

 

Leaving Peeta in the bedroom doorway, I hurry to answer the knock.    

 

It’s not Hazelle.  It’s Bristel, Gale’s current girlfriend.

 

She storms into the main room, not even bothering to ask if she can come in.  “Is your ma here?”

 

“She’s out,” I say, loud enough that my voice will carry.  Bristel is one of the biggest gossips in the Seam.  I don’t know what would be worse: Bristel seeing my mother, or Peeta coming out of the bedroom.  The best thing to do is get her to leave.  “Is there something I can do for you?”  I try to make my tone as unfriendly as possible. 

 

“My sister’s real sick.  My ma sent me to get Miz Everdeen.”  She turns to look at me.  “We need some healing.”

 

I lick my lips.  I can tell Bristel’s not going to be put off.  “What kind of sick?  Mom’s been training Prim and me.  Maybe I could help.”

 

She shakes her head.  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

 

“Well…”  I glance worriedly at the still open bedroom door.  “At least tell me what the symptoms are so I can pass it on.”

 

The girl lists them off:  cough, runny nose, sleeping all the time.  My worry lessens.  It sounds like her little sister’s got a cold.  A bad one, but just a cold.  Probably looks worse than it actually is.  There’s plenty of things around here I can give her.  No need for my mother to make a personal visit.

 

“You know, Bristel,” I tell her, going to the cupboards, motioning for her to follow me.  I feel a surge of relief when she does.  This way she won’t actually see into the bedroom.  “My mom’s got this herb tea she swears does wonders on sicknesses like that.  Why don’t I give you some and you can take it home?  If your sister starts to feel better, come back and I’ll give you more.  If she doesn’t, one of us will come over and take a look.”

 

It’s a gamble.  But it’s one I’ve had to make before.  Plenty of people have come for healing; so far no one’s become too suspicious.

 

Bristel thinks about for a long moment, then she finally nods.  Thank goodness.

 

I spoon out a little bit of the herb mixture into a cloth bag.  “Give her half of this when you get home and the other half before she goes to bed.  Let me know how she’s doing in school tomorrow and we’ll go from there.”

 

The girl pulls a slip of paper out of her pocket and trades it for the herbs.  I give it a cursory glance before pocketing it.  It’s a chit for a bucket of coal.  Both of her parents are miners and get their fuel for cheap.  It’s one of the few benefits the miners have.  To them, a bucket of coal is an easy trade, while for me, it’s something I’d have to buy, eating up my precious coin.  A single bucket won’t last long, but every bit helps.

 

When she’s finally gone, Peeta walks into the room with an inscrutable expression on his face.  

 

I cross my arms.  “Why didn’t you shut the door?”  

 

“I thought it was gonna be one of the Hawthornes!” he protests.

 

“You still should’ve shut it!  No one knows about my mother!  No one can know.  We can’t end up in the Community Home.”  I have to make him understand.  This is too important.

 

“Why not?  It’d be better than you going to Cray!  It’d be better than having to spend all your time trying to figure out where your next meal is coming from.  It’d be better than having to hide your mother from everyone.  You’re walking a fine line, Katniss.  Someone will find out, and then you’ll be in the Community Home anyway.  Wouldn’t it be better to go now?”

 

“No!”  I can’t believe he’s even suggesting it.  Kids die in the Community Home.  And worse... “They’ll take Aven away.”   

 

Peeta narrows his eyes.  “You said that before.  What do you mean?  And how do you know?”

 

I know this time he isn’t going to let it go.  It’s better to come clean.  “Darius told me that’s how they get Peacekeepers.  If you’re young enough, you get sent to Two.”

 

“How does he know that?”

 

“Because that’s what happened to him.”

 

Peeta’s lips thin.  He looks at my innocent baby brother, who’s discarded his toy and is singing a little nonsense song to the cat.  Losing him would destroy Prim.  It’d destroy me.  Everything I’ve done has been to protect my family, and if they take Aven, it’ll all be in vain.  I can see those same thoughts running through Peeta’s head as he watches Aven play.  “Right,” he agrees, nodding at me.  “No one can know.  I’ll keep your secret.”

 

I smile shakily.  “Thank you.”

 

**oOo**

 

Food’s tight over the next few days.  Even with the addition of what Prim’s been able to hunt and gather, we’re still having to find creative ways to fill our stomachs.

 

The weather’s turned cold.  Bitterly cold.  With the thick layer of snow, that means there’s even less to forage.  Everyone’s got a cold now, and while Bristel’s sister has made a full recovery, the rest of the Seam has come down with the sniffles.  My mother’s clients are happy to pay me in yarn, coal chits, old clothes, and even a few household supplies like pots, pans, and glasses.  But no one gives us food or coin.

 

Another problem has surfaced.  Aven’s starting to turn up his nose at the thin broth and tesserae mush.  Even Peeta can’t do much with what we have.  We need money.  We need supplies.  I look at my last five coins nervously.  Because of the cold, we’ve had to buy more fuel.  Even the coal chits aren’t enough.  But Aven needs to eat.

 

Maybe if I go into town I can find something.  Or the Hob.  I might get lucky at the Hob.  

 

But not today.  The weather’s too cold today.  I’ll go tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow isn’t any warmer.

 

I’m struggling with Aven to put on his winter clothes so I can take him to Hazelle’s when there’s a knock at the door.  “Prim, can you get that?  It’s probably Peeta,” I say over Aven’s yelling of “No no no no no no no no!”  

 

“Katniss?” Prim calls back.  “It’s for you!”

 

I manage to get one of my brother’s arms into his coat and wrestle with the other.  “Tell Peeta I’ll be there in a second!”

 

“Um, I’m not Peeta?”

 

I stop what I’m doing and whirl to see Darius standing there, a cloth-covered package held in one white-gloved hand.  Aven takes the opportunity to wriggle out of his coat and dart over to Prim, lifting his arms to be picked up.  I should be more annoyed but my heart’s racing at the sight of the Peacekeeper's uniform.   I have to remind myself the red-haired man is not going to hurt me.  “D-darius!”  I try not to flinch at my stammer.  

 

The red-haired man shuffles his feet and says, “Sorry to bother you so early, but I got something for you.”

 

I’m not sure what to say, so I just tilt my head.  

 

He sets the package on the kitchen table and removes the protective cloth to reveal a gray and white speckled chicken.

 

My eyes widen.  “Darius, this is too much!”  Chickens are valuable here in Twelve.  Only merchants and a few well-to-do Seam families own them. 

 

“No no no, it’s not anything at all!  The mess hall had too many of ‘em, and with this cold, we were having trouble feeding them all.  Shipments are running late, trains are getting stuck.  It’s hard to keep the tracks clear, with all this snow.  It’s too much work for us and we’re not a high priority district.  The cold doesn’t help either.”

 

I’m sure he’s not supposed to tell me all this, but it’s clear he’s nervous.  “But… why bring the bird to me?”  It doesn’t make any sense.  

 

“They were just gonna kill it, and frankly that seemed to be a waste of a good laying hen.  I convinced the mess hall captain to let me take it.”

 

All of a sudden, the bird’s value skyrockets.  A chicken will feed us for a meal.  A laying hen will give us eggs for at least a few years.  It’s an amazing gift, one I can’t accept.  “No, really, Darius it’s too much.  I can’t pay you--”

 

“Call me Dar,” he interrupts.

 

“Dar, it’s too much.”

 

“It’s a gift, Katniss.  I wanted to give it to you.”  He blushes.  “Please.  Just take it.”

 

I play with the end of my braid.  “But why?”

 

He blushes even more.  “We’re friends, right?  That’s what friends do.  It’s okay for friends to give each other gifts.”

 

“But I don’t have anything to give to you.”

 

“How about a walk?  And a conversation?”  He sounds almost eager.  “I could do a walk and a conversation.  That’s worth a chicken or two, right?”

 

Not to me it isn’t, but if that’s what Darius wants, who am I to say no?  I’m definitely getting the better part of the deal.  There’s one problem, though.  “Um, I need to get to school,” I remind him.

 

“Great!  I’ll walk you there.”  His smile is both expectant and hopeful.  

 

“Um… okay.  Prim, can you stay here and take Aven to the Hawthornes’?”  And wait for Peeta, I silently add.  

 

My sister nods, a little crease forming between her eyebrows.  

 

I grab the shawl Darius gave me and wrap it around my shoulders.  “So, I guess I should say thank you.”

 

Darius flushes and rubs the back of his neck.  “It was my pleasure.”

 

**oOo**

 

“Are you okay?”  Peeta corners me as soon as we leave school.

 

I shake my head at him and start walking to the Hawthornes’.  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

 

“Prim said you had to talk with a Peacekeeper.”

 

“Dar?” I flinch at the slip.  “It wasn’t anything, just a thank you,” I hurry to cover.

 

Peeta eyes narrow at the nickname.  “A thank you for what?  And where’d you get that chicken from?”

 

I guess he must’ve seen the new chicken when he picked up Prim and Aven this morning.  “That’s what I had to say thank you for.  He brought us a chicken from the barracks that they were gonna just kill.”

 

“So?”

 

“So he didn’t have to.”

 

“And what’d he want for it?”  He sounds suspicious.  

 

“Nothing.”

 

Peeta looks at me like I’m stupid.  “He’s a guy, Katniss.  Of course he wanted something.”

 

“You didn’t,” I point out.  “At least that’s what you said.”

 

“But I… that’s not what I meant!”

 

He’s confusing me.  I cross my arms over my chest.  “Then what did you mean?”  

 

“It’s just… I don’t want you to get hurt, Katniss!  He could be taking advantage of you!”

 

“He’s not.”

 

“For now.  What will you do when he wants more?  What are you going to do then?”

 

Donaldson’s leering yellow eyes rear up into my thoughts.  A shiver of fear runs through me.  I tighten the shawl Darius gave me around my shoulders to cover my reaction.   Peeta doesn’t need to know his words have affected me so much.  Memories of what that man did already haunt my nightmares, I refuse to let the monster steal anything more from me.  “He won’t.”

 

“You don’t know that.”

 

“Neither do you!”

 

“Yes, I do, Katniss!  He’s a guy.  They can’t be trusted!”

 

“What about you?”

 

He reels back.  “Me?  I’d never hurt you!”

 

“But you’re a guy.  Isn’t that what you said?  ‘Guys can’t be trusted.’  So why should I trust you?”

 

“That’s not what I meant!  I meant he’s an outsider.  You need to stop seeing him.  I can’t be around all the time to protect you!”

 

Any lingering fear morphs into anger at his words.  I stop walking and put my hands on my hips, glaring at Peeta.  “I can take care of myself.”  Who is he to insinuate that I need his protection?  I’ve been taking care of myself and my siblings since my father died.  I helped my mother while he was sick.  I’m capable of handling whatever comes my way.

 

He glares back at me.  “Well obviously not, ‘cause you had to go to Cray.”

 

“I was looking after my family.”  I rub my hands up and down my arms, trying not to remember that night.  I’m still not proud of what I had to do, but I’ll do it again if it means my family won’t starve. 

 

“Yeah,” he scoffs, “by turning into a whore.  If I hadn’t helped you, you would’ve gone back to him.  Or to some other Peacekeeper!”

 

My mouth drops open.  He can’t be implying what I think he is.  That I asked for what happened to me with Donaldson.  How dare he?  He doesn’t get to tell me what I can and can’t do to provide for my family.  He has no idea how much I agonized over that decision.  How much it hurt me.  If I’d had any other options I would have taken them.  But I didn’t and I will not stand to have someone I thought was my friend judge me.

 

That’s it.  I’m done.  My hands drop, curling into fists.  “You know what?  Screw you!”  My voice is deathly quiet.  “I didn’t ask for your help.  You’re the one who wanted to.  You’re the one who took out tesserae without even talking to me, so don’t try to blame that on me!  We don’t need your help.”   

 

He’s gone pale with two bright spots of color on his cheeks.  He seems shocked at my anger.  

 

I don’t care.  He’s hurt me.  “I thought you were my friend.  That’s what you said you wanted.  Well if this is how you’re gonna be, I don’t want your ‘friendship’.  Friends don’t call their friends whores or kick them while they’re down.”  My words catch in my throat.  I’m so angry.  So hurt.  I take a deep breath.  “Goodbye, Peeta.”

 

I storm off, hot tears searing my eyelids.  I refuse to let Peeta know just how much he’s hurt me.  I didn’t ask for this life.  But I damn well refuse to let anyone insult how I choose to live it.

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 4/5/16  
> Revised: 8/5/16  
> Revised 2: 8/29/16  
> Betaread by: Xerxia, Amy
> 
> So that happened.
> 
> Peeta’s shown in canon that he can get jealous, and that he does. He’s also been known to say really stupid things, even without being hijacked. Look at the end of the first book. His reaction to Katniss’s revelation that the romance wasn’t all real is pure teenage drama queen - which is what this is here. And teenagers say really stupid and cruel things when they’ve got their drama on.
> 
> Peeta thinks he and Katniss are dating, which is not the case - but he’s making an assumption. Which he also does in canon. Even though it’s not quote-unquote official, in his mind, there’s a relationship there. He’s also jealous and doing what a lot of guys do and stating that women should be concerned about other guys but not them… we’re getting a bit of “not all guys” mixed with “all men, except me” syndromes. 
> 
> He’s being stupid. It happens. Especially when jealousy and miscommunication are in play. 
> 
> No worries, we love our Everlark. They just need to suffer a bit for their happy ending. Mwahahahaha.
> 
> Things we Randomized:  
> \--If Prim hunted/gathered and if she got anything
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!


	7. The Shots You Don't Take

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ That’s it.  I’m done.  My hands drop, curling into fists.  “You know what?  Screw you!”  My voice is deathly quiet.  “I didn’t ask for your help.  You’re the one who wanted to.  You’re the one who took out tesserae without even talking to me, so don’t try to blame that on me!  We don’t need your help.”    _

 

_ He’s gone pale with two bright spots of color on his cheeks.  He seems shocked at my anger.   _

 

_ I don’t care.  He’s hurt me.  “I thought you were my friend.  That’s what you said you wanted.  Well if this is how you’re gonna be, I don’t want your ‘friendship’.  Friends don’t call their friends whores or kick them while they’re down.”  My words catch in my throat.  I’m so angry.  So hurt.  I take a deep breath.  “Goodbye, Peeta.” _

 

_ I storm off, hot tears searing my eyelids.  I refuse to let Peeta know just how much he’s hurt me.  I didn’t ask for this life.  But I damn well refuse to let anyone insult how I choose to live it. _

 

**oOo**

 

_ “You miss 100% of the shots you don’t take.”  
― Wayne Gretzky _

 

**oOo**

 

Prim questions me about my reddened eyes when Aven and I get home.

 

I should have expected it, but it still takes me aback just how protective of me she’s become.  It’s almost like she’s the older sister and I’m the younger.  It feels weird.  Wrong.  I’m the one who should be protecting her.  I busy myself with removing Aven’s outerwear so I don’t have to look Prim in the eye.  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Did that Peacekeeper do something?” she presses.

 

I wish she’d let it go.  

 

I know my sister’s arms are crossed over her chest, her lips drawn into a thin line.  I know that look.  It’s the Eiken stubbornness coming through.  My mother used to get the same expression when dealing with a particularly fractious patient.  It always looks out of place on Prim’s young face.  

 

“That Peacekeeper was fine,” I answer her question, frustration evident in my tone.  “Darius was a perfect gentleman!”  

 

I go to the cupboard to get Aven his afternoon snack.  My heart skips a beat when I see the last of the bread Peeta made.  I want to throw it out, but it’s food.  You don’t waste food.  I hack off a ragged slice and hand it to the little boy next to me.

 

Aven takes it, shoving the whole piece in his mouth, then bounces off to the bedroom to play.  

 

When he’s left the room, I turn back to Prim.  “It’s Peeta who was the asshole.”

 

My sister reels back.  “But he loves you!”

 

“He’s got a crappy way of showing it.”  I tell her what Peeta said about me, how he called me a whore.  I do my best to keep from crying.

 

I don’t succeed.  

 

With each recounted word, Prim’s eyes darken into murderous slits.  “Do you want me to shoot him?” 

 

I can’t help it, Prim’s offer makes me smile.  “You’d get in trouble.”

 

My sister tosses her head.  “Only if I get caught.”

 

“No, don’t.”  I sigh.  “I just... I don’t want to see him again.”

 

Prim bites her lip.  “You know, you and Peeta have really horrible timing.  He was supposed to bring his tesserae over on Sunday.”

 

“We don’t need his help,” I say immediately.  Peeta’s words about him always needing to save me still rankle.

 

“No, we don’t.  But we’re running out of food.”  

 

I stare into the almost-empty cupboard.  We’re out of cheese and meat.  There’s only a little bit left of the bread.  We maybe have a day or two of tessera grain, but the chicken Darius brought will need to eat and I’d rather not kill a laying hen if I can avoid it.  It’s worth more in the long run if I can keep her alive.  I might be able to stretch what little we have for a few days, but Prim’s right.  It’s still not enough.  

 

“I’ll just go to Cray.”  I flinch at the thought.  But I can’t see any other good options.

 

“Or I could take out tesserae,” Prim counters as if she knew was I was going to say.  “I’m twelve.  It’s legal now.”

 

I glare at her.  “No.  I promised Dad.  We’ll find another way.”

 

“And if we don’t?”  She crosses her arms.

 

I refuse to say anything because we both know what the answer is: Prim will take out tesserae, and everything I’ve endured will have been in vain. 

 

**oOo**

 

The weekend passes.  Peeta doesn’t bring his tesserae, even though part of me was still expecting him to.  I guess he’s taken me at my word that I don’t want to see him again.  Good.  We don’t need his kind of help.  I should have known charity like his always comes with strings attached.  

 

Peeta doesn’t show up at school on Monday.  Delly shoots me a look.  I feel the recrimination in it.  

 

I eat lunch by myself.  

 

The next day, he’s back.  His eyes meet mine across the crowded room.  We both flinch.  I take my lunch and flee to the nearly empty library.  

 

Thom joins me the following day in my hiding place among the stacks.  We’re back to how things were before Peeta intruded on our lives.  Peeta and Delly eat lunch with the rest of our school.  Thom and I sit alone.

 

After school, Thom walks with me to the Hob.  I’m going to try to barter some of my mother’s herbs for food and other necessities.  I don’t feel comfortable going there on my own, not after what happened with Donaldson.  But I should be safe with my best friend.  

 

“What’s going on with you and Peeta?” Thom asks after a long silence. 

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Thom thankfully doesn’t push.  Instead, he leads me to his family’s stall, showing me the pile of fabric remnants they’ve acquired from the tailor.  They’re cheap, and I wish I had enough to trade for them.  But I don’t. 

 

I don’t even have enough to buy food.  

 

A flash of Peacekeeper white makes up my mind.  I need to go to Cray again.  He’ll pay, and maybe he’ll give me more food.  Either way, it should be enough to get me through until I can get my tesserae again.  I glance around the crowded market.  Cray often hangs out in the Hob.  No point in going to his house if he’s already here.  

 

I spot him drinking at Ripper’s stall along with Haymitch Abernathy.  The two are joking and laughing.  I’ll have a better chance of getting his attention now than if I come by his house later.

 

I smooth my hair and clothing down.  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Thom watching me.  He doesn’t say anything, much to my relief.  It’s taking all of my courage to do this.

 

Making my way through the maze of stalls, I approach the Head Peacekeeper and former Victor.  Both men look up at my approach. 

 

Haymitch grunts, downing a small glass of white liquor.  He can guess why I’m there and doesn’t want anything to do with what I’m offering.  He never has.  Even though he has money and could afford to, he doesn’t pay for sex.

 

Cray, on the other hand, is more welcoming.  “Hey, girlie, any turkeys stupid enough to wander into your garden?  I’ve got a mighty hankering for some fresh meat.”

 

Is he trying to insinuate something?  I can’t tell.  It doesn’t matter, because my hands start shaking at his words.  “No, but... I was still hoping I could see you tonight.”   To cover my fear, I play with the end of my braid, giving the man what I hope is a friendly look.

 

The tipsy man eyes me sharply.  “Sure you wanna do that, girl?”  All hint of his earlier teasing is gone.  

 

I flash what I think is a confident smile at the old man.  “I’m… I’m sure.”  

 

He peers at me, as if he can see through my lie.  After what feels like an age, he nods.  “Alright, I’ll see you at sundown then.  No need to dress up.  Let’s keep it casual.”

 

Relief and dread flood through me, warring with each other for dominance.  I feel the weight of both Haymitch’s and Cray’s eyes on me.  Longing to escape, I bob my head and slip away before I do something stupid like cry.  

 

**oOo**

 

That night, I do as Cray asks, knocking on his back door as the sun sets.  I shift from foot to foot, my boots sliding on the packed down snow.  It’s still cold, but not as bad as it was just a short time ago.  I can’t wait until the weather clears enough so I can sell Cray a turkey rather than my body.  

 

A few seconds later, a sweater-clad Cray opens the door.  He nods in approval at my appearance and invites me in.

 

I don’t waste any time.  I’m afraid my courage will fail me and I’ll run away before I can go through with what I came here for.   Refusing to look at the Head Peacekeeper, I shuck my coat and shawl, leaving them draped over one of the kitchen chairs.

 

When I lift my hands to start unbuttoning my blouse, Cray stops me.  “No need for that, girl.  Freeman told me what happened to you.”  His voice is gruff, yet oddly paternal.  It’s not what I was expecting at all.

 

I turn away so he can’t see how much my hands are shaking. 

 

“I like my women willing,” he continues in that same confusing tone.  “For both of us to have a good time.  This?  You don’t want this.”

 

What’s unspoken is that I don’t want him, and he’s right.  “I… but I need to do something,” I say, embarrassed by how small my voice sounds.  “You… I…”  I can’t articulate the words.  I need money.  Desperately.  Otherwise Prim will take matters into her own hands, and I can’t allow that.

 

“Can you cook?” he asks suddenly, cutting off my incoherent attempt at words.

 

“Yes?”  Of course I can cook.  If I couldn’t, I’d starve.

 

“Then you’re one up on me.”  Cray shrugs.  “My regular housekeeper’s off takin’ care of her new grandchild for the week.  If you don’t mind cookin’ and cleanin’ and pickin’ up after an old man, I could use a little help around the house.”

 

“That’s all?” I can’t stop myself from asking.

 

“That’s all.  Unless you want more.  But make sure you skedaddle by sundown most nights.  Unless you want people talkin’.”  He seems oddly sympathetic and aware.  It’s not what I expected.  “I’ll pay you three coin a day and you can take what leftovers there are home with you.”  

 

I don’t have to think about it.  It’s a good offer and it doesn’t give me the fear thinking about sex does.  “I’ll do it.”

 

“Good.  I hope you can make something good out of this mess.”  He throws open the door to his pantry.  “And if there’s anything you really want, feel free to grab it.  I ain’t fond of tinned food.  Prefer fresh, if you know what I mean.”

 

I do.  Fresh food always tastes better.  But food is food and you have to make do with what you’ve got.

 

For the next week, I work as Cray’s housekeeper.  I don’t get as much as I would’ve earned if I’d spent the night with him, but it’s enough to keep my family going for a little while.  It’s hard work, but I don’t feel disgusted doing it.  In addition to cooking, I clean his house and do his laundry.  The man insists on clean sheets every night, so the amount of laundry I’m doing makes my hands look like Hazelle’s.  I wish I had lanolin to rub on them, but we ran out a month ago.  

 

By the end of my stint as Cray’s interim housekeeper, I’ve accumulated a supply of dented and unlabeled cans from the pantry that contain who knows what.  I don’t think anybody’s gone through them in a while.  From what I’m able to glean from Cray, the cans are part of his standard Head Peacekeeper salary.  But he doesn’t use them, he gets most of his food fresh from the merchants in town or at the Hob.  Unfortunately, with this weather, there’s no fresh food to be found, no matter how much money you’re willing to spend.  

 

The trains are running late, when they run at all.  I can’t even get my tesserae until two days later than normal, when a train finally manages to slip through.

 

It’s a hard winter.  Each day, there’s fewer and fewer kids in school.  Most will return eventually, but a few won’t.  Disease, starvation, and exposure are taking their toll on our District.  

 

It’s always one hardship after another in Twelve.  I refuse to let this latest string of them defeat me.  

 

**oOo**

 

On my last day of working as Cray’s housekeeper, he pulls me aside.  “Got something for you, girl.”

 

I raise my eyebrows at him, wondering if it’s more food.  The trains have started running again, so there’s more fresh food.  Given Cray’s distaste for canned food, I’m hoping he’ll send me home with his leftovers.  

 

Instead of going to the icebox, he pulls out a thick golden envelope and holds it out to me.  “Please accept this as reparation for the unprofessional treatment you experienced at the hands of former Peacekeeper Donaldson.”  He glances at the palm of his left hand before continuing, “Please understand that his behavior is not indicative of the Peacekeeper Corps and does not reflect the views of the Capitol.  If there are additional damages, please contact your district representative to work on a solution.”

 

“Huh?”

 

Cray’s shoulders slump.  “Please don’t ask me to repeat that bullshit.”

 

I shake my head.  I don’t think hearing it again will make me understand it more.  To cover my confusion, I open the envelope and pull out several thin slips of paper.  According to the writing on the slips, it’s money, but not like any kind of money I’ve ever seen.  Around here, everything’s done using metal coins or wooden chits.  I’ve never even heard of paper money.  “Is this real?” 

 

“You think this is some kind of joke?”

 

“No, it’s just…”  I hold up one of the slips.  “How am I supposed to spend this?”  The vendors at the Hob won’t accept it.  I don’t even know if the merchants in town will.

 

Realization dawns in Cray’s eyes.  The mines pay on a daily basis.  Even death benefits, the largest sum many families will ever see at one time, are handed out as coin.  No one uses paper money in Twelve.  “Fuck.  Didn’t think of that.  Come with me.”

 

The Head Peacekeeper grabs several other identical envelopes and escorts me through town, heading toward the Peacekeepers’ barracks.  I try to trail behind, not make it obvious I’m with Cray, but he won’t have any of it.  “Quit dawdling, girl.  You want your money or not?”

 

I glance around at the people on the streets, hoping they didn’t overhear.  Nobody meets my eyes.

 

He leads me to a small squat building on the edge of town.  Beyond it are several long rectangular buildings surrounded by a chain link fence.  The barracks.  He talks to the Peacekeeper at the guardhouse and says to me, “Wait here.  I’ll be back.”

 

The woman guarding the barracks watches me with wary eyes.  I feel like a criminal waiting for judgment.  I shift my weight from one leg to the other, anxiously awaiting Cray’s return, hoping nobody recognizes me.

 

“Katniss?”

 

No such luck.

 

I turn to see Darius with his partner, Purnia.

 

“What are you doing here?” The expression on his face is a cross between pleasure and concern.  

 

I try to smile.  “Peacekeeper Freeman.  What a surprise.”

 

“Answer his question,” Purnia snaps.  She’s wary, like the guard.  

 

“Cray asked me to wait here.”  There’s no point in lying or evading the truth, not when it’s so easy to verify.  I wonder why both Purnia and the guard are so hostile.  What does she think I’m going to do?  Set the place on fire?

 

“Oh!  It came!”  Darius’s eyes brighten.  

 

“Huh?”  Great move, Katniss.  Ask a more intelligent question, why don’t you?  “What came?”

 

“The reparation package.  I thought it should be coming soon.”  He turns to his partner.   “Remember that incident I had to report?”

 

“Yeah.”  The earlier antagonism fades as recognition sets in.  “This one of the injured parties?”  There’s a flash of sympathy in the woman’s dark eyes.  

 

Darius nods.  “You think you can clock me out?”

 

Purnia rolls her eyes.  “You’ll owe me.”

 

“Put it on my tab.”

 

He waits for her to go before pulling me off to one side, out of the guard’s earshot.  “I figured you didn’t want anyone overhearing what happened.”

 

I nod, grateful for the courtesy.  “How do you know about the reparations?”  The word feels foreign on my tongue.  

 

“I’m the one who filed the report.  As the arresting officer and ranking Peacekeeper at the time of the incident, it was my responsibility to report what happened and the damage that was done.  It was a violation of his duty.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense.”  I can’t say it to Darius, but I thought Peacekeepers were sent to districts to keep them in line.  To keep them scared so they won’t rebel.  Punish any troublemakers or suspected troublemakers.  Gale used to rant about them all the time when we dated.  

 

As if he was privy to my internal monologue, Darius explains, “Peacekeepers are sent to the districts to keep order, to prevent agitators from inciting rebellion.  The last thing anyone wants is for those tasked to keep the peace to break it.  What Donaldson did was wrong, and it’s a violation of the trust the Capitol placed in him.”

 

“But he’s a Peacekeeper.”

 

“And he should know better.”

 

I shake my head, unable to comprehend what he’s saying.  “But why all the fuss over me?  I’m not important.”

 

“It wasn’t just you.  During his interrogation, Donaldson admitted to compromising the Capitol’s interest with multiple women.”  Darius’s lips thin.  “Apparently he started right after he arrived here from Six.  The man’s a rabid dog and he’s been put down.”

 

“You mean--”  I don’t want to admit it, but relief floods through me at the thought of Donaldson’s death.

 

Unfortunately Darius’s next words shatter that relief.  “No, that’s too good for the likes of him.  He’s in the Capitol’s debt and that debt will be repaid.”

 

“So what’s gonna happen to him?”  I don’t ever want to see Donaldson again, so I hope Darius doesn’t mean he’ll be sent to Twelve.  I don’t know if I could deal with it.

 

“He’ll get a taste of his own medicine.”  A pleased smirk crosses his handsome face.  “The Capitol will cut off his tongue and cock and put him to work.  Sewers are too good for him, if you ask me, but that’s where he’ll go.  That’s what happens to people who take advantage of the Capitol’s generosity.”

 

Good.  He deserves it.  I look up at Darius.  “Thank you.”

 

He reaches out to touch my cheek, but stops himself partway.  “I’m sorry I couldn’t stop it, Katniss.  You didn’t deserve that.  No one deserves that.  I just hope it doesn’t make you hate all Peacekeepers.”

 

“Not all,” I tell him.

 

He smiles at me, then glances behind me at the barracks.  “Cray’s on his way back.  You think maybe I could walk you home?”

 

I nod.  I don’t know what else to say.

 

**oOo**

 

The Hob hums, filled to almost bursting.  It’s a Tuesday.  Not typically the busiest day of the week.  But it’s been so frigid, so miserable, for so long, that everyone is looking to do something, anything, to escape from the cold.  There’s so many people packed into the rickety old building that for the first time all winter I’m not able to see my breath hang in the air while Thom and I move from stall to stall.

 

He’s already helped me get another load of coal back to my house.  I spent more of my reparation money on it than I’d wanted, but if we don’t want to freeze, there isn’t much choice.  Now we’re looking for clothes and blankets that aren’t too threadbare.  

 

I’ve been hanging out with Thom more.  Peeta and I still haven’t spoken since that day, and I’m beginning to think I’ll never see the blond merchant again.  There’s a twinge of some sort of emotion deep in my belly.  

 

I don’t want to think about it, so I distract myself by scanning the various stalls.  There’s more offerings than one would expect at first glance: clothes, knick-knacks, even furniture.  These last several weeks have been hard.  People are dying of cold, starvation, and sickness.  If my mother were herself, we’d probably be raking in money for her treatments.  But she’s not, so we’re not.

 

“What do you think of this?” Thom asks, holding up a light gray knit shawl/scarf combo.

 

“For your mom?”

 

“No, for you.”

 

I stare at it, trying to picture it on myself.  “It’s ugly, but it looks warm.”

 

“Isn’t that the goal?  You could always unravel it later and make something less hideous out of it.”

 

He’s got a point.  It looks like there’s enough yarn there to knit a sweater or a vest for Aven, if nothing else.  And it does look warm.

 

After the obligatory haggling session, the ugly thing’s mine.  I’ve already gotten a few skirts and a pair of pants with a ripped inseam.  Nothing new, but the clothes don’t need to be pretty.  They just need to keep out the chill.

 

Thom and I move on.  “So what was it like workin’ for Cray?”

 

I shrug.  “Work.”

 

“Did you have to…”  He trails off.

 

I shake my head.  “No.  Not if I didn’t want to.”  It was understood I didn’t want to.  Besides, there was a line of women waiting earlier and earlier each night for him.  Cray didn’t need me.

 

Thom grunts.  We pause at the next stall.  Most of what’s here looks to be remnants of fabric and spools of thread.  While I pick up some sewing supplies, Thom wanders over and starts perusing the ribbons.  I join him a few moments later.  If it were closer to Prim’s birthday, I might consider picking up a hair ribbon or two for her.  Thom’s got three sisters, he might have the same thought.  “Is one of your sisters’ birthdays coming up?”  

 

He looks up, startled.

 

“You okay?”

 

Thom nods.  “Yeah, fine.”  He gets the attention of the stall’s owner and points to a length of ribbon about a foot and a half long.  It’s pale sky blue, decorated with daisies with bright yellow centers.  “I’ll take that one.”

 

“Is it Bree’s birthday?” I ask, referring to his littlest sister.  A kid her age would like a ribbon like that.

 

Thom shakes his head.  “No, not ‘til August.”

 

“Then who’s it for?”

 

A low flush rises up my friend’s neck.  “No one.”

 

I raise an eyebrow.  I know an evasive answer when I hear one.

 

“A girl I like.”

 

I know he’s not referring to me, and I have a sneaking suspicion I know who it might be.  A twinge of guilt rushes through me.  If I’m right, my fight with Peeta hasn’t been hurting just me.  “I think it suits Delly nicely.”

 

Thom’s eyes widen.  “Am I that obvious?”

 

I shake my head.  “Only to people who know you.”

 

“Please don’t tell anyone.”  The Merchant/Seam divide is still strong.  A lot of people would be upset with Thom for dating a Merchant girl.  

 

But I’m not one of them.  “Your secret’s safe with me.”

 

**oOo**

 

It’s still bitterly cold a few days later.  I’d like to do nothing more than curl up next to the stove and play with Aven, but I can’t.  I’ve got too much to do.  While I appreciate Darius’s gift of a chicken, having the bird creates a whole new problem.  We’ve been keeping it indoors for now, but the thing is messy.  If it’s not poop, it’s feathers.  If it’s not straw, it’s tesserae grain.  Not to mention, the cat can’t seem to stop chasing the beleaguered bird for fun.

 

A chicken coop has become a necessity.  

 

I don’t want to waste money on lumber.  Winter’s not over; who knows what else we’ll need to survive until spring?  Besides, there are other ways to get wood, even ones which don’t involve me climbing under the still snowed-in fence.

 

There’s a garbage pile just outside the entrance to the mines.  It’s not the slag heap, but a mound of discarded and broken tools, mine support beams, and railroad ties.  They’re treated with something that makes burning them dangerous.  However, just because it’s not good for burning doesn’t mean you can’t use it for other things.  And I plan on using it to make a chicken coop.   
  


I’ve loaded up Aven’s toy wagon with the best pieces I can find and am headed home, trying to suppress the shivering that’s threatening to overwhelm me.  I stayed out too long, and because of my exertion, I’ve ended up sweating underneath my clothes.  Now it’s a race.  Will I succumb to hypothermia or get home in time?

 

“Katniss?”

 

I pause, glancing around to see who’s called my name.  I don’t see anyone, just the normal mix of people coming and going.  It must be a hallucination: a sure sign of hypothermia.  Thinking it’s just my imagination, I start walking again.

 

“Katniss!  Wait!”

 

There it is again.  I see a white-clad Peacekeeper jogging toward me.  Instinctively, I freeze.  I want to run away, but that’d mean I’d lose my haul and my wagon.  Maybe I can slip away, pretend I didn’t hear them.

 

But I’ve stood here too long.  I’m out of time.  

 

The man skids to a halt in front of me, his breath forming little clouds in the air.  “There you are, Katniss!  I’ve been looking all over for you.”

 

I breathe a sigh of relief.  It’s Darius.  Of course it is.  Who else would it be?  I just can’t shake the primitive fear I get whenever I see that hideous white uniform.

 

“What do you want?” I ask, trying not to let my voice shake too much.

 

“I wanted to talk to you.  Is there a good place, someplace we can go that’s private?”  He glances around.  “I don’t really want to have this conversation out in the street.”

 

I try to think.  I could take him home, but Prim and Aven are there.  Not to mention my mother’s still unresponsive.  I’d suggest the Hob, but it’s still so busy.  But I need to get inside.  I’m fighting off hypothermia.  The last thing I need is more time standing around outside, especially now that the sun’s starting to go down.  “There isn’t any place,” I tell him after a few long moments.

 

His face falls and he bites his lower lip.  “Damn.”  He lets out a sigh.  “I suppose we can go to my house.”

 

“You have a house?  I thought you lived in the barracks.”

 

“I did.”  He fiddles with his gloves, looking everywhere but right at me.  “Kind of got a promotion, and when you reach a certain rank, they don’t let you live with the other Peacekeepers.  ‘Cause it promotes fraternization or some such bullshit.  So do you want to come over?”

 

“Okay,” I agree.  At least it’ll be private.

 

We walk in silence.  It’s really too cold for casual conversation.  I try to figure out just what he wants to talk to me about that’s so important, but I come up blank.

 

By the time we make it to his house, the sun’s fully set and my teeth are chattering.  Darius motions for me to take a seat at his kitchen table while he putters around the house, trying to find a teakettle.  He’s nervous, I realize, because if he’d just stop and look, he’d see there’s one resting on one of the burners of the stove.

 

“D-D-D-Dar?”  

 

He turns, a question in his eyes.  I point at the teakettle and he lets out a short bark of laughter.  “Right.  Figures it’d be in plain sight.”  He doesn’t bother trying to continue the conversation, instead filling the kettle, letting the warmth of his house seep into our bones.

 

While I wait, I take in the space I can see.  The house looks similar to Cray’s, but doesn’t have a lived-in feeling like his does.  The whole place feels antiseptic, almost artificial.  There’s a monotonous sameness to it, and there’s absolutely nothing anywhere that gives a hint to who the owner is.  No pictures or artwork or personal items, nothing.  The house is a blank slate, just waiting for someone to make it a home.  Darius can’t have lived here long.

 

A few moments later, Darius sets a steaming mug of tea down in front of me along with a bowl of sugar and pitcher of milk.  I stare at them, my mouth watering.  I can’t remember the last time I was able to take my tea with cream and sugar.  I look up at him in surprise.  Somewhere along the way, he’s removed his helmet and body armor, and he’s wearing what looks to be long gray pants and a grayish white sweater.

 

He smiles at me ruefully and runs one hand through his red hair.  “I’ve always had a bit of a sweet tooth.  My brother and I used to sneak out to the sugarcane fields at night and hack off pieces to chew.  I realize now how dangerous it was.  If we’d gotten caught, we could’ve been executed.  But we were kids and it was sweet.”  His voice is distant as he shares this memory with me.  His smile softens.  “So now you know my deep dark secret.  I’m a sugar thief.”

 

I can’t help it.  The way he says it makes me laugh, breaking the tension in the air.  I fix my tea the way I prefer: heavy on the cream, heavy on the sugar.  Darius hums in approval when I add three lumps to the warm amber liquid.  “So what’d you want to talk to me about?”  I ask after taking an exploratory sip.  The tea is rich and spicy with a hint of cinnamon and nutmeg.  This is not ordinary tea.  I wonder why he’s sharing it with me.

 

Darius sits down across from me, his striking eyes fixed on me.  “You know I like you, Katniss.”

 

I nod my head.  Of course I do.  It would be pretty hard to miss.  He asked me to call him by a nickname and he keeps stopping by, bringing me and my family little gifts.  And then there’s the chicken.

 

Seeing that I’m not going to say anything, Darius soldiers on.  “I don’t want to scare you, that’s the last thing I want to do, but I have feelings for you.  Strong feelings.  Real feelings.  And now I’m in a position where I can do something about it.”

 

I frown.  “I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“It’s kind of complicated, but you know Peacekeepers aren’t allowed to marry?”

 

I nod.  I remember Darius mentioned it before, but I haven’t really given much thought to it.  I’ve had more important things to worry about.

 

“Well, if I thought you’d say yes, and if I thought they’d allow it, I’d court you the way you deserve.  The way I want to.  Do the right thing and marry you.”  He stares down into his mug.  “But I can’t.”

 

I don’t know what to say, so I say nothing.

 

“But I can offer you the next best thing.  I care about you, Katniss.  Love you, even.  And I can see you’re struggling.  If I could just give you the money outright, I would.”  He stirs his finger in the rich brown liquid.  “But the Capitol doesn’t allow that either.”

 

“Why are you telling me all this?”

 

His eyes meet mine.  “I want you to be my companion.”

 

“...Companion?”  Does he mean a lover?  Friend?  Housekeeper?

 

His cheeks flush tomato red, but he doesn’t look away.  “It’s not as seedy as it sounds.  You’d be my companion and lover while I’m deployed here.  In return, I can offer you a stipend, even a place to live if you want it.”

 

“Where?”

 

He looks down into his tea again.  “Here.  With me.  You could even bring your family if you want, there’s plenty of room.”

 

My brain can’t process this, so I stare at him, my tea growing cold on the table in front of me.  “How… how…”  I shake my head.  “How long would this be for?”

 

“At least five years.  Could be as long as nineteen.”

 

I take a huge gulp to cover my shock.  That’s longer than I’ve even been alive.  By the time our arrangement would be over, I’d be too old to start a family.

 

As if he’s picked up on my thoughts, Darius continues.  “I know that’s a long time, and I’m not asking you to commit to anything you’re not willing to.”

 

“What about children?”  Condoms don’t work perfectly to prevent pregnancy, and that’s if he’s even willing to use them.  I’ve helped my mother enough to know that.  If I’m his lover for nineteen years, children are almost guaranteed.

 

I want children.  But I want a husband too.

 

“You mean, our children?”  He’s unable to cover the little smile that forms when he says those words.  “I’d support them, of course.  They’d never have to take out tesserae, I’d make sure of it.  We don’t have to have them if you don’t want to, that’s your choice.  But if you did…”  The blush intensifies.  “I wouldn’t mind.  I’ve always wanted a big family.”

 

I shake my head.  “I don’t know what to say.”

 

He tilts his head.  “You haven’t asked me about money yet.  I expected that’d be the first thing you’d want to know.”

 

He’s right.  I haven’t.  It should’ve been the first thing on my mind, but I’ve just been so blindsided by the offer that I haven’t asked the most important question.  “How much are you offering?”

 

“If you didn’t want to live with me, it’d be seventy five a month.”

 

“And if I did?”

 

“Well, assuming you brought your whole family with you, I’d only be able to pay you fifty.  But I’d cover everything else, like food and clothes and medicine, for all of you.”

 

That’s actually a better deal.  If I lived with him, I wouldn’t have any expenses and I’d be able to put away a huge nest egg, so when Darius’s deployment did end, I wouldn’t have to work in the mines unless I wanted to.  But even more important, it would save my family from the Community Home.  We could bring my mother, but because we’re under Darius’s protection, her condition wouldn’t matter.  She could even die, and we’d be safe.  

 

But no one gets fifty coin a month for doing nothing.  “What would I be expected to do?”

 

“You’d be my housekeeper and this place,” he gestures around the white-walled room, “would be yours to decorate how you want.  You’d get to decide what we do and what we eat.  And at night, we’d curl up together and… sleep.”

 

“Just sleep?”  That seems like a lot of money just to get someone to cuddle with.

 

“That’d be up to you too.  Eventually, I’d like to make love with you, but I don’t expect it right away.”  He pauses, choosing his words carefully.  “You’ve… gone through so much.  Had to do so much.  You’re the strongest person I know, Katniss, that’s what I admire so much about you.  But everyone’s got a breaking point.  And the last thing I want is for me to be that pebble that sends you careening off the cliff.”

 

I’m grateful he isn’t pushing me now, but I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to have sex again.  Especially with a Peacekeeper.  I like Darius, and if he had offered this to me before Donaldson, I would’ve taken his offer in a heartbeat, even with the downsides.  Now… I don’t know if I can.  But I don’t feel like I can say no.

 

“Can I have time to think about it?” I ask instead.

 

“Of course!  Talk it over with your family.”

 

“How soon do I need to give you an answer?”

 

“There’s no rush.  Take as much time as you need.”

 

I glance down.  “What if you change your mind?”

 

“I won’t.  This is something I really really want.”  He drains his tea and puts the cup back on the table.  “If you’re okay with it, I’d still like to see you while you make up your mind.”

 

“I’m okay with it,” I say without hesitation.  I like Darius.  He’s funny and sweet.  I’d be a fool to push him away while I’m making up my mind regarding his offer.

 

Some of the tenseness in Darius’s shoulders lessens.  He licks his lips and his eyes meet mine.  “I’d like very much to kiss you right now.  Will you let me?”

 

My head nods of its own accord.  How am I going to be able to have sex with him if I can’t even kiss him?  Better to find out now, rather than lead him on and make him angry.  The last thing I need is another pissed off Peacekeeper in a position of power over me.

 

Darius slides his chair around the table and reaches out for me.  His fingertips ghost across my cheek to my chin, his eyes searching my face for any hint that I want him to stop.  I don’t.  His fingers are roughened with calluses I didn’t expect.  I wonder how he earned them.  He pauses, his eyes searching my face, hunting for any signs of revulsion.  I nod slightly.  So far so good.  I don’t feel any fear or disgust at his touch.

 

He leans forward, placing two butterfly kisses on my eyelids.  “Keep your eyes closed,” he breathes.

 

I do.

 

A few seconds later, his lips cover mine.  They’re gentle, with a hint of sweetness from the sugar in his tea.  The kiss is soft.  Tender.  It’s very different from all of the other kisses I’ve had.  Not insistent and fiery like Gale’s, or wet and clumsy like Bran Hatfield’s.  It’s not even coldly dispassionate like Cray’s or violent and sloppy like Donaldson’s.

 

As soon as the yellow-eyed Peacekeeper’s face rears up in my mind, I shudder and pull away.  

 

“I’m sorry!”  Darius holds up his hands.  “Did I do something wrong?”

 

I shake my head.  “No.  It wasn’t you.  That was… nice.”  I don’t have any other word for it.

 

Understanding dawns on his face, his eyes becoming shuttered.  “Thank you for giving me the chance.  I understand.”

 

I know he does.

 

And that’s part of the problem.

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 6/21/16  
> Revised: 9/10/16  
> Revised 2: 9/29/16  
> Betaread by: Xerxia, Amelinazenitram, & Amy
> 
> Ahhh so much happened in this chapter and without any Peeta. Much of it massively important and pivotal to the rest of the story. Yay foreshadowing!
> 
> Yes, the cowl thing Thom found in the Hob is the same thing she wore at the beginning of Catching Fire. We figured it was something Katniss had from her old life and not something Capitol-made. 
> 
> Darius’s offer is something we based on old-time officers stationed overseas back in colonial days. It’s something we could see happening in pretty much any district, and depending on the district it could be a position of power or a position of ridicule. We know which Twelve is. It may not be what you think. 
> 
> Things we Randomized:  
> \--Weather  
> \--If Prim hunted/gathered and if she got anything (no and no)
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think
> 
> Curious about what else we’re doing? Check out our original writing under the name Christina Rose Andrews on [tumblr](http://christinaroseandrews.tumblr.com/), [twitter](https://twitter.com/croseandrews), and [facebook.](https://www.facebook.com/christinaroseandrews/)


	8. Dark

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ “I’m sorry!”  Darius holds up his hands.  “Did I do something wrong?” _

 

_ I shake my head.  “No.  It wasn’t you.  That was… nice.”  I don’t have any other word for it. _

 

_ Understanding dawns on his face, his eyes becoming shuttered.  “Thank you for giving me the chance.  I understand.” _

 

_ I know he does. _

 

_ And that’s part of the problem. _

 

**oOo**

 

_ “Weather forecast for tonight: dark.”  
― George Carlin _

 

**oOo**

 

The day after Darius’s offer, I sleep late, too exhausted to even consider dragging my body from the warmth of the bed I share with Prim.  

 

I had a hard time falling asleep last night.  I kept tossing and turning, mulling the offer over.  Weighing the pros and cons.  Trying to figure out what to do.  I’m confused.  Torn.  

 

I should just say yes.  It would solve so many problems.  I wouldn’t have to hide my mother’s illness anymore.  I wouldn’t have to worry about how thin all of us have become.  I could save up for the future.  I could ensure that I’d never have to work in the mines.  Prim and Aven would never have to take out tesserae.  I could stop taking out tesserae… and so could Peeta.  I could pay back the baker’s boy.  I could rid myself of the debt I owe.  I could wash my hands of him.  Him and his Merchant condescension.

 

So why can’t I just say yes?

 

Before… what happened, it’d still be a hard decision.  I’d have to accept that I’d be in a relationship with someone I don’t love, that it’d be a business relationship.  Even if I grew to care about Darius, which, I admit, I could see happening, it’d still always be him paying for me.  He’d always have power over me.  No matter if we grew to love each other, we’d never be equals.    

 

And it would be temporary.  That’s both a good thing and a bad thing.  Our relationship would only last as long as Darius’s deployment.  If I did fall in love with him, I’d lose him.  Not to death, but to his job.  I’ve seen what loss can do to someone.  I’m reluctant to go through that myself.  But on the positive side, if I absolutely hated the arrangement, I wouldn’t be stuck with him forever.  Not like Sae’s daughter is stuck with her husband.  He beat her, even while she was pregnant.  The baby was born too early and isn’t quite right because of it.  Divorce isn’t legal in Panem, so there’s nothing she can do.  A definite end date has upsides.  

 

I’m just not sure which side would win.

 

But now it’s even harder, because Darius is a Peacekeeper.  It’d have been hard before; Peacekeepers aren’t universally liked.  I would probably get ostracized by some people for associating with him.  But that worry pales in comparison to the fear that bright white uniform instills in me.  I could barely let Darius kiss me.  What happens when he tries to have sex with me?  A voice in the vault of my mind whispers, Peeta asked the same thing and I brushed him off.  Now, I have to consider it.  For the well-being of my family, I really have to consider it. 

 

I finally fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion.  Unfortunately, my rest is shattered by the sound of someone knocking at our door.  My heart lurches.  I long for the day I can hear knocking at the door and not feel a stab of fear.  But today is not that day.

 

Prim answers it and I strain my ears to hear who it might be.  Please don’t be a Peacekeeper, please don’t be a Peacekeeper.  I don’t think I could even handle Darius right now.

 

The door to the bedroom opens.  My sister stands silhouetted in the light coming in from the main room.  “Katniss?  You awake?”

 

I let out a sigh.  “I am now.”

 

“Sorry.  It’s just…”  Her eyes flick toward the front door.  “Mellark’s here.  He’s brought tesserae.”

 

Peeta!  I haven’t seen him since our fight.  I never expected to see him again, let alone his tesserae.  I groan.  I don’t want to deal with Peeta right now.  If I’m being fair, I don’t want to deal with anyone.  But he’s brought tesserae.  The least I can do is thank him.  “Tell him I’ll be out in a minute.  I need to get dressed.”  My hands pick at the front of my thin cotton nightgown.  The material’s almost see-through and the hem falls a few inches below my knees.  I shouldn’t have worn it to bed, it’s not winter appropriate.  But it’s my favorite: a gift from my father on my twelfth birthday.  I wanted the comfort the garment gives me.   

 

Prim tilts her head, her eyes taking in my every gesture.  “You don’t have to see him if you don’t want.  You don’t owe him anything, Katniss.”

 

I hum noncommittally.  

 

“I can tell him to fuck off.”

 

“Prim!” I exclaim, shocked.  When did my sister start swearing?  I didn’t even know she knew what that word meant!

 

“What?”  She crosses her arms and thrusts her chin forward.  “We don’t need him, Katniss.  Or his charity,” she spits it out like it’s a dirty word.  “I know you don’t want me to take out tesserae, but it’s still an option.”

 

I shake my head.  It doesn’t matter if it’s an option, I’m not letting her do it.  “Let me talk to him.”

 

“Fine.”  She starts to turn but changes her mind, pointing at me instead.  “But if he says one word about the sacrifices you’ve made to feed our family, I’m gonna deck him.”

 

Part of me is amused at the visual of my sister punching a boy who’s easily twice her size.  The other part doesn’t want Prim around for this confrontation.  Peeta might let the wrong thing slip.  She doesn’t know about Donaldson or Darius’s offer, and I intend to keep it that way.  “I don’t suppose I can convince you to take Aven out to play,” I suggest, despite knowing she won’t go.  

 

“No way,” Prim’s voice is firm.  “I’m not leaving you alone with him, Katniss.  Who knows what he’ll do?”

 

The thought of Peeta doing something to me has never crossed my mind.  But then again, I never would’ve guessed he’d say something so hurtful, and he did.  My eyes steal to the open door.  It’s likely Peeta’s heard most of this conversation.  The walls aren’t that thick.  But if he hasn’t, he doesn’t need to find out more from Prim and me yelling at each other.

 

Deciding not to push any further, I make a shooing motion so she’ll leave and I can get dressed.  

 

A minute or so later, I step out of the bedroom, pulling the worn wool of my sweater over my head.  I smooth it down, my fingers picking at the pills on the faded green yarn.  I’m not looking forward to this conversation.  I’m afraid of getting hurt again.  I’m afraid of just what Peeta might demand from me.  He knows too many of my secrets.  One word from him and we’ll all be in the Community Home.  One word from him and I’ll never see my little brother again.  It scares me just how much power he has over me.  

 

I lift my eyes, unable to avoid the confrontation any further.  Peeta’s staring at me.  His face cycles through several different emotions.  I can only pick out two of them: regret and hope.

 

“Prim says you’ve brought tesserae.”  As greetings go, it’s not the nicest, but it’s the best I can do in this instance.

 

“Yeah.”  He shuffles his feet.  “I’m sorry I’m late.  There was a backlog.”

 

Prim snorts in derision.

 

“No really, there was.  Without the trains, they just sort of… ran out.”  He scratches at the back of his neck.

 

“Katniss was able to get her tesserae.”  Prim’s bending the truth.  I was able to get my tesserae, but only after a train came in.  Even then they were still delayed a day or two.  Still, mine weren’t anywhere near as late as Peeta’s.

 

Peeta flinches.  “I didn’t go right away.  I should’ve.  I’m sorry.  By the time I went, there was a waiting list.”

 

Prim lets out another snort.

 

I step in before my sister makes things worse.  “Darius mentioned the trains were having trouble.  Thank you for bringing it now.  You know, you don’t have to.”

 

“Yes, I do!”  His voice is insistent, earnest.  “I promised you.  We made a deal.”

 

“I thought the deal was off.”  I play with my sweater, watching him out of the corner of my eye.  “I made it pretty clear I didn’t want to see you again.”

 

He flinches again.  “If that’s what you want.  You don’t… you don’t have to give me anything for the tesserae.  I can just… bring it over when you’re not home.  I can leave it with your sister.  You don’t have to give me anything.  Not even your time.”  

 

“That’s not how it works, don’t you remember?  Guys always want something.  Isn’t that what you said?”  I’m a little surprised at how cold my tone is.  I still haven’t forgiven Peeta for what he said, for what he implied.  I’m not sure I can.

 

“I’m sorry.”  His eyes dart to Prim.  “Do you think we can, you know, talk about this just the two of us?”

 

“I already know everything.”  Prim crosses her arms over her chest.  “And I’m not going anywhere.”

 

“If you’ve got something to say, you can say it to both of us.”  Even though I’d rather Prim not be involved in this conversation, we need to present a united front.  She’s made her stance clear.  The only thing I can do at this point is back her.

 

Peeta sighs, his shoulders drooping.  “I’m… I’m sorry, Katniss.  I shouldn’t have said what I did.”

 

“You shouldn’t have called her a whore, you mean.”  Prim’s tone is harsh.

 

“Yeah.  I shouldn’t have called her a whore.”  He looks over at me.  “I shouldn’t have called you a whore.  It was wrong…”  He takes a deep breath.  “...I was wrong.  And… you’re right.  I don’t get to decide who you hang out with.  If you wanna see that Peacekeeper, that’s your decision.  I shouldn’t have assumed we were…” he trails off.

 

“Shouldn’t have assumed you two were what?” Prim pushes even though I wish she wouldn’t.

 

He hangs his head, one foot tracing a pattern on the floor.  “I shouldn’t have assumed Katniss and me were anything more than just friends.”

 

“No, you shouldn’t have,” I step in before Prim can.

 

“I’m sorry,” Peeta repeats.  “I’d like to start over.  Try again.  Being friends, I mean,” he clarifies quickly.  “I’m not gonna push you for anything.  I’ll still give you the tesserae, you don’t have to be my friend.  It’s not… it’s not fair for me to ask anything of you.  If I do, I’m no better than…”  He lets the thought trail off but I know what, or rather who, he’s referring to: Donaldson. He’s comparing himself to the man who assaulted me.  “Whatever you want to do, that’s what I’m offering. If you don’t want to see me, I understand.  I just…”

 

As Peeta babbles, I think about what he’s actually saying.  I want to believe him, that he really is sorry, but I’m not sure I can trust him.  “Do you promise not to say anything like that again?” I ask, after he trails off for a second time.

 

He lifts his head to look me in the eye.  “I can’t promise I won’t say anything stupid, but I’ll never call you that again.  Please.  I’m sorry.  Can we just start over?”  His blue eyes are wide, pleading.   

 

I don’t know if his apology is enough.

 

“It’s going to take some time for me to trust you again,” I tell him honestly.  “But if you’re serious, really serious, I’ll give you another chance.” 

 

A ghost of a smile flits across his lips.  “Thank you.”  He takes a step forward.

 

I hold up my hand to stop him from getting too close.  “But we’re going to start slow.  The four of us can sit together at lunch again, and I won’t avoid you at school.  But I don’t think walking with you to and from school is a good idea.”

 

Peeta looks disappointed, but nods.

 

“Also, I’ll reconsider our arrangement.  After all, friends don’t buy each other’s friendships.”  I nod my head to the pile of grain and oil stacked haphazardly inside the doorway.

 

“And if that doesn’t work, I’ll teach you to hunt,” Prim pipes up.  “We Everdeens don’t take charity.  Especially from people claiming to be our friends.”

 

“But my name’s already in the bowl.  If you don’t take it, it’ll just go to waste.”

 

My eyes meet Prim’s.  Should we take the tesserae?  Prim lifts one shoulder slightly.  The minuscule shrug tells me she’s letting me make the final choice.  I think about it.  We need the food, but if I accept Darius’s offer we won’t, and it’d be hard to explain why the baker’s youngest son is dropping off tesserae at a Peacekeeper’s house.  

 

Making up my mind, I state, “If you want to offer us the tesserae for now, we’ll take it.  But if my mother gets better or we manage to find another source of income, you’ll have to find some other use for it.”

 

Peeta makes a face, but says, “Then I guess we have a deal.”

 

“I guess we do.”

 

**oOo**

 

The frigid weather finally snaps over the weekend.  Almost overnight, District Twelve comes to life.  The Seam hums with activity as people take advantage of the warmer temperatures.

 

Thom and I are among them.  The two of us slip out to the Meadow, our boots crunching through the snow.  With Donaldson gone and Darius’s protection, I think setting a few snares will be safe enough, so long as we aren’t too obvious about it.

 

It’s still too cold to stay outside for as long as our snares will need.  Once they’re set, Thom and I head back to my house.  His home is closer to the Meadow, but mine has more privacy.  

 

While I make tea, Thom sits down at our kitchen table.  “Your mom’s still out of it, huh?”

 

I nod.

 

“How much longer can you keep this up?”  

 

I know he’s not asking about my mother.  The question’s broader than that.

 

“Until I get caught,” I answer.  “Or…”

 

“Or what?”

 

I turn around, leaning back against the counter.  I haven’t told anyone this, not even Prim.  I know what she would say: she’d tell me I don’t need to take the offer, just like she told me I didn’t need to go to Cray.  I don’t want to have that discussion with her.  But Thom… Thom has never interfered with my choices.  He’ll give it honest thought and tell me his true opinion.  “You promise you won’t judge me?”

 

My friend looks at me, confused.  “Sure.”

 

“You know that Peacekeeper I’ve been hanging out with, the red-headed one?”

 

“Daniel?  Darren?  Something like that.”

 

I nod again.  “Darius.  He’s… he’s asked me to be his companion.”

 

“‘Companion’ as in friend or ‘companion’ as in…”  He gives me a pointed look.

 

“The second one.”

 

Thom grunts.  “How much is he offering?”

 

“Fifty a month.  And…”  I play with my braid, not looking at Thom.  “He wants me to live with him.”

 

“What about your family?”  

 

“They’ll live with us too.”  Thom knows I wouldn’t even consider this if I couldn’t protect Prim and Aven.  My mother… can’t.  So it’s up to me.  Or, maybe, it’s up to Darius.  “He’s offered to take care of all four of us.”

 

Thom lets out a low whistle.  “You’re gonna take it.”  It’s not really a question.

 

I shift uncomfortably, turning back to the stove.

 

“You are going to take it, aren’t you?”  Had something like this been offered to Thom’s older sister when his family was at their lowest, she would’ve taken it in a heartbeat.  I know he’s wondering why I’m not jumping at the chance, even with the stigma.

 

“I’m thinking about it.”

 

“What’s there to think about?  You’ll get a place to live, everything provided for you and your family, money to save for the future… what’s the catch?”

 

“I won’t be able to be with anybody else for at least five years.”

 

He shrugs.  “Okay, that kind of sucks, but it’s not a deal-breaker.  I’m not saying you should take it.  But I don’t understand why you haven’t.  What’s wrong with him?  Does he want you to do perverted stuff?  Is Prim part of the deal?”

 

“No!” I cry out, before he can come up with something even worse.  I realize I have to tell Thom the truth.  He doesn’t know about Donaldson.  He doesn’t know about what happened.  How can I explain to my friend that I would turn down an easy job which doesn’t require back-breaking work without explaining my fears?

 

I take a deep breath.  “It’s ‘cause he’s a Peacekeeper.”

 

“So?  Cray’s a Peacekeeper.  You didn’t have any problems going to him.”

 

“Something happened to me.”  Using as few words as possible, I tell Thom what happened.  How Darius was the one who stopped it the second time, but how any time I see the uniform or someone knocks at the door, my heart starts to race and I break out in a cold sweat.

 

Thom sits silently for a long time, allowing me to finish making our tea.  I hand him a mug and sit down across from him, waiting for him to say something.

 

After several long minutes, he says, “Mellark knew about this, didn’t he?”

 

I nod.

 

“That’s what your fight was about.”

 

I nod again.

 

“You wanna talk about it?”

 

I stare down into my tea.  “I think so.”

 

“You don’t have to give me the whole story, Katniss.  Just whatever you think I should know.”  He puts his hand on top of mine.  Despite the weather, his hand is warm.  “You know I’ve got your back, right?”

 

I look up at him.  “I know.  And I’ve got yours.”

 

“Then we’re cool.  So… what’d Mellark do to make you avoid him for two weeks?”

 

I take a deep breath.  “He called me a whore.”

 

Thom’s lips thin.  His hand squeezes mine.  “You think anyone would mind if I gave him a black eye?  Maybe two.”

 

I shake my head, pulling my hand back so I can drink my tea.  “No, don’t.  He’s apologized.  We’re working it out.”

 

Thom’s eyes narrow but he doesn’t say anything.  He takes a sip of his tea and regards me seriously.  “So, going back to this whole Davan thing,” he says, a twinkle in his eye letting me know he’s deliberately messing up Darius’s name on purpose, “you know I didn’t mean to sound like I was putting pressure on you.  You don’t have to say yes to his offer if you don’t want to.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You don’t have to say no, either.  You get to decide what’s right for you.  I’m not gonna judge you on whatever you need to do to survive.  Just know I’m here for you.”

 

I give my friend a weak smile.  “Thanks.  I feel the same.”  Thom’s stuck with me through the darkest times in my life.  He helped out as much as he could after my father died.  His mother even gave me more in trade for my father’s things than they were worth, and I know it’s because Thom asked her to.  

 

He smiles back.  We sit in comfortable silence, sipping our tea.  Prim and Aven are out, and even though my mother’s still comatose in her bed, I can pretend it’s just me and Thom in the house.

 

“You know,” he breaks the silence, “I wonder if the reason Mellark was such an ass was because he’s got a crush on you.  Not that it excuses him any, but I think I can understand why he’d be angry.  He’s not really angry at you.  He’s angry at himself for not being able to help you.  I don’t have feelings like that for you and I keep wishing there was something more I could do to help.”

 

“But he is helping me.  He’s taking out tesserae for me.”  I gesture at the bags of grain decorating the room.  Some of them fit into the cabinets, but not all.

 

“Then I don’t know.  All I wanna say is you don’t owe anything to anyone.  Not to Dallas, not to that Merchant kid, not to anyone.  Not even to me.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Thom drains his mug and pulls out a ball of string.  “So, would you mind showing me that knot again?”

 

I’m grateful for the subject change.  “Which one?”

 

“The one you use to tie down that sapling.  The one that kinda looked like it was wrapped around itself?”  He tries to knot the string.  It’s not anywhere near his goal, but I know which knot he means.

 

“Oh, sure.”  I demonstrate it a few times before giving the string back to him.

 

He tries again but the knot unravels.  “I am never gonna get the hang of this.”

 

“Sure you are.”  I demonstrate again.  He fails again, but this time I catch a hint of something.  He’s not really paying attention to me.  His mind’s elsewhere.  “Or maybe you’ll get the hang of it when you get whatever’s bothering you off your chest.”

 

“You know me too well, huh?”

 

“I told you my deep dark secrets...”  I leave it hanging.

 

“I asked Delly out.”

 

“And?”

 

“She said yes.”

 

“And?”

 

He plays with the string in his hand, crinkling it up into a mess.  “And I’m just really nervous about screwing it up.”

 

“You’re not taking her to the slag heap, are you?”

 

“No!”  His head shoots up and he glares at me.  “Who do you think I am, Hawthorne?”

 

“So what are you doing?”

 

“Nothing much, just walking her home.  Doing homework together.  Working on that damned essay.”  He shrugs.  “Not like there’s much to do this time of year.”

 

It’s true.  Winter is kind of a bad time in the romance department.  Summer gives more opportunities for walks or picnics or other date-type things.  I suppose walking a girl home from school counts as a date in the middle of February.  It suddenly makes me realize Peeta probably considered every single one of our walks to be a date, even though I hadn’t.  I’d just assumed he was doing it to protect me from Donaldson.

 

“So why are you so nervous?”  I’d rather concentrate on Thom’s romantic problems than on mine.

 

“I dunno.  It’s… Delly.  She’s a merchant, and I’m Seam.”

 

“Do you really think she cares about that?”

 

“I hope not,” he sighs.  “Not like I can change who I am or where I come from.”

 

“Well, I’m happy for you.  I hope things work out.”

 

“Yeah, there’s a bit of a hiccup with you and Mellark still on the outs.  Kind of hard to woo a girl when you’re having to avoid her best friend.”

 

I wince.  “Sorry.  Didn’t mean to put a damper on your love life.”

 

He waves it off.  “Don’t worry about it.  I meant what I said: I got your back.  Delly’s got Mellark’s.  Her and me?  We’ll figure it out.”

 

We sit in silence again as Thom plays with the string and I finish my tea.  He’s making little knots and unraveling them.  He doesn’t quite have it, yet, but maybe…  “So now that you’ve got that deep dark secret off your chest, why don’t you try that knot again?”

 

He does, his fingers fumbling a bit, but when he finishes, he’s got a passable two-half-hitch knot.  With some more practice, Thom might actually be a decent trapper.

 

**oOo**

 

Thom and I enter the temporary lunchroom.  While the weather’s warmer, it’s still too cold to eat outside.  There’s a few tables and mats strewn across the hardwood floors, but many students are sitting directly on the ground.  Not enough resources.  It’s just a part of life in Twelve.

 

I scan the room.  Delly and Peeta have managed to commandeer one of the mats and are sitting against one wall.

 

Okay.  Time to face the music.  I take a deep breath.  Peeta and I have made up.  Mostly.  This’ll be a test of just how enduring his apology is and if I’m ready to forgive him.  I’m glad Thom’s stuck with me, even though it means he hasn’t gotten to hang out with Delly.  I really need to know someone’s in my corner. 

 

As I get closer, I notice Delly’s wearing the ribbon Thom gave her.  It’s tying her hair back into a low ponytail which spills over one shoulder.  It’s not her usual hairstyle.  The change suits her. 

 

Peeta looks up when we’re a few feet away.  My stomach clenches.  This is the moment of truth.  I wait silently for a signal that it’s okay to sit with them.  

 

Thom doesn’t have any such compunctions.  “Mind if we join you two?” he asks in an easy, casual tone.

 

Delly perks up, beaming at my friend, before flicking her eyes to the boy next to her.  “If Peeta’s okay with it, sure!”

 

It’s all down to the boy with the bread.  “Katniss?” he says, shifting the onus onto me.

 

I know what he’s asking.  Do I want to sit with him?  Is this okay?  

 

I nod.

 

“Sure you can sit with us,” Peeta says.  And just like that the ice is broken.

 

“Oh good!” Delly says as Thom and I take our seats.  “You two’ve stopped fighting.  I was afraid Thom and I would have to stage an intervention!  Our little group needs the two of you.  Lunch wasn’t nearly as much fun,” she elbows Peeta, “was it?”

 

Peeta grunts.

 

“That’s what I’ve been having to deal with ever since you two had your little tiff.  Peeta’s been Mr. Mopey-Face,” she turns to me, “and you’ve been a ghost.”

 

“Sorry?”

 

She waves a hand.  “Oh don’t be!  It’s all better now.  Just promise me you two won’t fight like that again.  It makes my tummy all grumbly.  And poor Thom gets this little line right between his eyebrows.  I just want to smooth it away.”  She reaches out to rub her fingers right above Thom’s nose.  “There.  It’s gone!  So.  Now that we’re all friends again, have any of you started working on that essay yet?  I don’t have any idea what to say!”

 

As Delly babbles, Peeta hands me a slightly burned drop biscuit.  I take it with a smile, our fingers brushing briefly.  Delly’s right.  It is nice to put this behind us.  Now, if we can only get her to stop talking about that damned essay.

 

**oOo**

 

I’m eating lunch when the sirens go off.  All the kids around me stop and stare out the window at the falling snow.  Everyone knows what that sound means.  There’s been an accident in the mines.  The students whose parents labor beneath the earth start to shake with nervousness and fear.

 

I’m one of them.

 

I pray my father’s okay, that he wasn’t in the blast.  In the distance, the blaring siren is joined by more alarms amid the ominous rumble of even more explosions.  The earth beneath my feet shakes.  

 

Several children start screaming.  The teachers struggle to maintain calm.  They fail.  Some panic, scurrying off to who knows where.

 

The shaking intensifies and the deafening crash of breaking glass pierces the cacophony.  

 

I startle.

 

From a distance, I hear Prim crying out in dismay and fear.  The sound makes me pause, scanning the room.  She shouldn’t be here.  She’s got class.  Why am I hearing her screams?

 

Another voice, a young child’s, joins her.  Aven.  He shouldn’t be here either.  He should be at Hazelle’s or home.  It’s that incongruity which makes me realize I’m trapped in a nightmare.

 

I force myself awake, pushing away the sirens and the shouts, concentrating on Prim and Aven’s voices.  They aren’t part of my dream.  Their terror is too immediate.

 

I sit up in bed to discover the sound of breaking glass wasn’t part of my nightmare either.  It’s real.  Someone’s throwing heavy objects through the windows at the front of our house.

 

Fear courses through me.  Someone’s attacking us.

 

A shadow crosses the window of the bedroom and I leap into action.  I hiss at Prim, “Grab the covers and get on Mom’s bed!”  

 

Not waiting to see if she obeys, I cross the room to the little trundle Aven sleeps on when he isn’t crawling into the bed I share with Prim.  During the day, it gets shoved underneath my mother’s larger bed, but at night, it’s pulled out so Aven can sleep below the window and watch the moon and stars.

 

My brother’s not moving.  He’s screaming and crying, pointing at the door to the bedroom.  I pull him into my arms, trying to get him to the relative safety of the center of the room.  He buries his tear-strewn face in my neck.  His little body trembles like a leaf.

 

The three of us huddle next to our still-unresponsive mother on the large bed.  I wish I had something, anything, to use as a weapon, but mine and my father’s bows are carefully hidden out in the woods, and any knives we might have are located out in the kitchen, where the attack seems to be centered.

 

For an undetermined length of time, more heavy objects are hurled through the front windows.  Voices scream and shout, calling out what I’m sure are insults, but I can’t make them out over Aven’s screams and the pounding of my own heart.  I keep waiting for something to be hurled through the bedroom window.  Or for the smell of smoke to creep under the door.  But none of that happens.

 

Eventually, the jeering voices and hurled objects stop.  But I’m unwilling to leave the safety of the bedroom.  It could be a ruse.  A trick.  And if there’s one thing this attack has proven, it’s that nowhere is safe.  Not even my own home.

 

When dawn finally stains the eastern horizon, I climb out from under the covers to survey the damage.  The bedroom escaped unscathed.  I peek through the window into our yard, noting places where someone in large boots has walked.  There’s an impression facing the window.  Someone was watching us.  Another set of prints lead to the chicken coop and a sinking feeling forms in my gut.  I take a deep breath.  Time to face the worst of the damage.

 

“Keep Aven in here,” I tell Prim, pulling my boots on over my bare feet.  

 

Prim doesn’t argue.  

 

I open the door of the bedroom to reveal a war zone.  All three windows have been smashed in, sending shards of glass careening around the room.  Rocks litter the floor, some with writing on them, some not.  The remains of glass bottles are mixed in with the broken windows.  They’d been filled with some kind of liquid.  I wonder what.  I take a deep breath and an unmistakable smell assaults my nostrils: urine.  The attackers threw urine-filled bottles into my house.  

 

Tears fill my eyes as I take stock of the damage.  The picture frames along the mantle have fallen to the floor, the protective glass shattering on impact.  Anything nestled on windowsills is either broken or missing.  But worst of all, the bags of tesserae grain which didn’t fit into our cabinets have been ruined.  Sliced open by flying glass and befouled by bodily fluids.   

 

I sag against the door frame, blinking back tears.  We were barely making ends meet before.  What am I going to do now?

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 8/18/16  
> Revised: 10/20/16   
> Revised 2: 11/1/16  
> Betaread by: Amy & Xerxia31
> 
>  
> 
> So, yay Peeta apologizing. As you may have noticed, Katniss doesn’t immediately welcome him back into her life with open arms. That’s because Peeta’s hurt her and she’s a little more wary, a little more skittish. They’re going to have to work a little more to get back to the friendship that they had before, let alone beyond. There’s some underlying problems and expectations they need to deal with. We’re still endgame Everlark, it’s just...going to be slow. Seriously, we take the words ‘slow build’ seriously. 
> 
>  
> 
> On to Thom and why he’s both supportive and non-judgmental. Social mores are different in Panem so Thom isn’t going to advise her to do what we in the 21st century would. We felt it was important to show that men and women can be friends without it being sexual or romantic, and to avoid falling into the pit trap of “well, not all guys,” so Thom has taken on that role. Besides, we like Thom. And Delly. And Thom and Delly.
> 
>  
> 
> Things we Randomized:  
> \--If Prim hunted/gathered and if she got anything (no and no)  
> \--If Katniss and/or Thom caught anything when they did snares in the Meadow (he did, she didn’t)
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> Curious about what else we’re doing? Check out our original writing under the name Christina Rose Andrews on tumblr, twitter, and facebook.


	9. Shadows on the Earth

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ I open the door of the bedroom to reveal a warzone.  All three windows have been smashed in, sending shards of glass careening around the room.  Rocks litter the floor, some with writing on them, some not.  The remains of glass bottles are mixed in with the broken windows.  They’d been filled with some kind of liquid.  I wonder what.  I take a deep breath and an unmistakeable smell assaults my nostrils: urine.  The attackers threw urine-filled bottles into my house.   _

 

_ Tears fill my eyes as I take stock of the damage.  The picture frames along the mantle have fallen to the floor, the protective glass shattering on impact.  Anything nestled on windowsills is either broken or missing.  But worst of all, the bags of tesserae grain which didn’t fit into our cabinets have been ruined.  Sliced open by flying glass and befouled by bodily fluids.    _

 

_ I sag against the doorframe, blinking back tears.  We were barely making ends meet before.  What am I going to do now? _

 

 

**oOo**

 

Chapter Nine: Shadows on the Earth

 

**oOo**

 

_ “There are dark shadows on the earth, but its lights are stronger in the contrast.”  
― Charles Dickens _

 

**oOo**

 

The worn bristles of our broom scrape over the faded and scratched wood floors of our main room, trying to pick up every last shard of glass.  We’ve been at this for hours but from the glittering flecks highlighted by the cold winter sun, I know we still have a lot more cleanup to do.

 

At least Aven isn’t here; if he were, I’d be worried about him getting cut or eating something he shouldn’t.  Prim and I dropped him off at Hazelle’s first thing this morning.  The woman gave us a funny look but didn’t ask too many questions.  Part of me wonders if she’s already heard the rumors.

 

Because there will be rumors.  There’s no way our neighbors didn’t hear the commotion or see the damage the attackers caused last night.  The fact that no one came to our defense speaks volumes about just how vulnerable our predicament is.  Things have gotten so bad that even the Seam doesn’t care if we live or die.   

 

I’ve always considered myself Seam.  I have the Seam looks: black hair, gray eyes, olive skin.  I grew up in the Seam.  My father was a miner, my grandfather was a miner, and his father before him.  The Seam stands up for each other, looks out for each other.  In school, the separation is clear: Merchant versus Seam.  The divide doesn’t close when you become an adult, which is why my parents’ love story is so unusual.  Why Thom was so worried about asking Delly out.  Why Hazelle was so wary of Peeta.  It’s always there, simmering under the surface.  Merchant versus Seam.  And right beside it is the hatred and distrust of all things Capitol.

 

My eyes are drawn to the pile of stones with insults like ‘slut,’ ‘whore,’ and ‘traitor’ painted on them in different handwriting.  The invectives are directed at me.  I can guess why.  It’s because I’ve been hanging out with Peeta.  Because I’ve been seen with Darius.  Because, in order to make sure my family survived, I was seen being friendly with Cray, and not just professionally.  I approached him in the Hob and walked through town to pick up my reparations.  To people not in the know, it may have looked like I was getting paid to be an informer.  The words hurt, but even more, they’re a warning.  I’m not safe here.  My family isn’t safe.  The Seam isn’t safe. 

 

This attack makes Darius’s offer more tempting.  Nobody messes with the Peacekeepers, not if they’re smart.  And as his companion, I’d be considered his property.  His woman.  No one would want to risk his wrath.  However, it brings to light the very real concern of what would happen once I no longer have the red-haired Peacekeeper’s protection.  And what if we have children?  What would happen to them?  Prim and I already are outsiders because of our parentage.  How would Darius’s and my children be treated?

 

The answer isn’t good.

 

I push thoughts of Darius’s and my potential children away.  I can’t think about the future, not when I have to get through today.

 

Prim looks up from where she’s picking through the ruined tesserae. She’s trying to find grain we might be able to give to the chicken, which thankfully wasn’t hurt or stolen in the attack. “What do we do now?”  Her fingers have bandages wrapped around the tips where glass has punctured the skin.  Next to her is a bucket filled with urine-soaked rags.   

 

I don’t have an answer.

 

She stands up, wiping her hands on her pants, leaving thin red streaks.  “How are we going to live?  There’s no stove in the bedroom and, if you haven’t noticed, it’s freezing.”

 

I keep sweeping.  “I know, Prim.”

 

“We aren’t going to have enough food.”

 

“I know, Prim.”

 

“We don’t have enough money to replace the windows or the food.”

 

I sweep harder.  “I know, Prim.”

 

She crosses her arms.  “So what are we gonna do about it?”

 

“If you’ve got any suggestions, I’m all ears.”

 

“I could take out tess--”

 

“No!”  Glaring at her, I throw the broom away, sending a piece of glass careening across the floor.  “You’re not taking out tesserae!  Not now!  Not ever!  Think of something else!”

 

She stares at me in shock.  I’ve never yelled at her like this before.

 

Taking several, steadying breaths, I retrieve the broom and resume my task.  “Let’s just get back to cleaning up, okay?”  I’m embarrassed by how shaky my voice is.

 

Prim’s face screws up in concentration.  “You could go to Darius.  Tell him what happened.”

 

“And then what?  What can he do?  We didn’t see who did this.”  I wave my hand at the mess.  Even though we both skipped school to clean up, the house isn’t anywhere near livable.  I’m so frustrated, I forget myself.  “We don’t know anything!  The Capitol doesn’t care what happens to us. The Capitol’s not going to pay to replace our tesserae grain.  The Capitol isn’t going to pay to fix our windows.   The Capitol--”  I pause mid-rant.  Except, they might have already paid to fix our windows.  I still have what’s left of that bag of coins, the reparations from the Capitol.  I hid it under a loose floorboard underneath my mother’s bed.  I was hoping to save it for an emergency.  

 

I guess this qualifies.  

 

I stop sweeping and set the broom up against the wall.  “I’m going to town,” I say abruptly.

 

“What?  Why?”

  
“To get us windows.”  I don’t want to go into detail so I keep talking, hoping to overwhelm her so she won’t think to question where I’m getting the money to buy windows. “I need you to run to the Lindens’.  They may already be at the Hob.  They should help us.”

 

It doesn’t work.  “Help us do what?  What are you talking about?  Where are you going to get windows?  How are you going to pay for them?”

 

I don’t have patience for my sister’s questions, and I don’t want her to know about the money.  She’d want to know where it came from and that would mean telling her about Donaldson.  “Just do it, Prim.”

 

I can see my sister wants to argue, but I turn away, a clear indication that this conversation is over.  I hear the front door slam a few moments later.

 

Once I’m sure Prim’s gone, I scurry into the bedroom to gather my bag of coins.  Over half of the one hundred coin I received in reparation is gone, used to pay for coal and other non-perishable necessities to last us for the rest of the season.  But there should still be enough for what I need.

 

I consider my options, discarding going to the Hob almost immediately.  Even if they have the supplies I need, which is doubtful, I don’t want to feel the weight of hundreds of gray eyes staring at me, wondering if one of them threw stones at my house last night.  Besides, the glazier is right by the carpenter on the far edge of town.  He often has windows that aren’t perfect enough for merchants or the Capitol lying around in his workshop.  No one will question me buying three windows from him.  At least, I hope they won’t. 

 

The real problem is what do I tell Prim?  She knows the money I got from Cray is gone.  And she doesn’t know about the reparations or Darius’s offer.  And I intend to keep it that way.  

 

I’ll think of something.  I have to.

 

I grab our little wagon and wheel it toward town.  I think about the last time I used it, to get scraps to build the chicken coop.  I’m glad we did that.  The bird seems to have weathered the attack.  I hope the hen continues laying until I can afford to buy a rooster.

 

The thought of money brings me back to my current predicament: what to tell Prim. Maybe I can claim I scavenged the windows from the Peacekeepers’ barracks, or someplace else in town.  It’s implausible, but not completely impossible.  The problem is that the story could be too easily checked, and my sister’s become less trusting ever since our father died.

 

I suppose I could say I traded a favor for them, maybe a promise for a turkey or a brace of rabbits once the snow lifts.  My father used to have that arrangement with some of the merchants in town.  But it was always an unequal arrangement.  And what if Prim tries to pay off the debt and finds out I lied?

 

Maybe I can just claim I went to Cray for the money.  She wouldn’t know I lied.  But I’d have to spend tonight away from home. 

 

Any story I come up with is going to have holes, but I can’t tell her the truth.  I just can’t.

 

As I walk through town, whispers follow me.  It seems everyone’s already heard about what happened.  Most of the people watching look at me with some form of pity, while others have pleased little smirks dancing over their lips.  My mother’s brother is one of the latter.

 

I do my best to ignore them all, but it doesn’t stop me from hearing snatches of conversation.  My name is repeated over and over, but I don’t hear much else.

 

Was a merchant involved in the attack?  Or are they just revelling in my disgrace?  There’s no way to know.

 

The glazier knows why I’m here, showing me to his discarded window pile without me having to ask.  The red-faced man’s blue eyes are sympathetic, and the price he lists is reasonable.  Ten coin per window.  Thirty coin total.  I don’t even need to bargain.  I know a good deal when I hear it.

 

He makes sure to give me the straightest panes he has.  I can barely make out the imperfections in the glass.  A bubble here, a wave there.  If I wasn’t looking for them, I wouldn't see the flaws.  These are worth way more than ten coin apiece, maybe even twice as much.  I know he’s discounting the price out of pity.  But I don’t have the heart to argue.

 

My purchases are wrapped up in sturdy padded canvas to protect them from the cold and the bumps along the way.  The wrapping itself makes my decision to come to the glazier even more worthwhile.  I can already think of several uses for the fabric, from rugs to heavy insulated curtains.

 

As I walk back through town with my head down, I reconsider what lie I can tell Prim.  None of them are perfect.  Maybe I should tell her the truth.  

 

No.

 

She’ll blame herself for not being able to protect me.  Then she’ll take out tesserae for sure.  No, the truth is definitely out.  

 

“Katniss, wait up!”  Peeta’s voice startles me.

 

I whirl to face him, my heart pounding.

 

He jogs up to me, pulling on his coat as he does so.  “You okay?” he asks.  “I-I heard about last night.”

 

Peeta’s heard about it already?  But he was at school all day.  The rumor mill’s running even faster than I first thought.  I wonder what people have been saying.  I wonder why they think it happened.  Part of me wants to ask Peeta who he’s heard this from but I know it won’t do any good.  They’ll have likely heard it from someone else. 

 

“Nobody’s hurt,” I say instead.  “We’re fine.”

 

“Really?  You’re not just saying that.”

 

“No really.”  I hold up my hands.  “Unless you count mine and Prim’s fingers being punctured from cleaning up the glass.”

 

Peeta frowns.  “I do count it.  I bet you haven’t even cleaned them up.”

 

He’s right.  I look at my fingers to see they’ve started to swell.  The only reason they’re not hurting more is the cold.  “I’ll do it when I get home.  I need to get these windows back.”

 

“We’ve got stuff back at the bakery.  My brother Chet keeps us hip-deep in salves and ointments.  It wouldn’t take any time and it wouldn’t be any trouble.”  He looks at me.  “Please?”

 

I shake my head.  “We’ve got stuff back home, too.  My mom’s a healer, you know.  We’ve just been so busy, I forgot.”

 

Peeta hums but doesn’t push.  “So other than your and Prim’s fingers, your family’s okay?”

 

“As much as can be expected, I guess.”  I pause.  Peeta’s back to being the kind boy he was before our fight.  I realize I’ve missed that Peeta, and if I want him to stick around, I need to do more to encourage it.  “Thanks for asking.”

 

The tension in his shoulders eases just a little.  “That’s… that’s good.  I was worried about you.  When Chet told me about your windows…” he trails off.  “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to help you.”  His eyes widen.  “Not that you need my help, but it’s just, you know, I like to help.  I like helping you.”

 

“It’s okay,” I cut off his babbling, slightly annoyed.  I like the kindness, but I could do without the over-protectiveness.  “If I needed help, I would’ve asked for it.”  Deliberately, I soften my tone.  “But thanks for the offer.”

 

He nods.  “So… I’m on break right now.  You mind if I, um, walk you home?  As a friend.  Just as a friend.”

 

I shrug my shoulders.  “Sure.  I could really use a friend right now.”

 

Peeta’s lips turn up into a shy smile.

 

Along the way we talk, not about anything really, school and Thom and Delly’s burgeoning relationship mostly.  Nothing very deep or consequential.  It’s just what I need: something brainless to keep my thoughts from racing.

 

As we approach my house, I see the white uniform of a Peacekeeper standing next to my sister.  My heart clenches in fear before my brain registers red hair. It’s Darius.  I wish I’d stop feeling so afraid every time I see a Peacekeeper.  It’s going to make living in Panem tougher than it already is.

 

The two spot Peeta and me and Prim flushes.  I stifle a sigh.  Prim must’ve run into him and told him what happened, but I wish she hadn’t involved the Peacekeeper.  Since my relationship with him may have been the impetus for the attack, Darius’s involvement might make everything worse.

 

Not like I can tell either of them that. 

 

Darius hurries over.  “Prim told me about what happened.  Do you have any idea who the vandals might be?”

 

I shake my head.  

 

The Peacekeeper’s eyes flick to Peeta and then back to me.  He gestures at someone I didn’t notice before: his partner, Purnia.  “Purnia and I, we’ve, uh, bagged up the weapons they threw, as well as the rags.”   

 

The woman looks up from where she’s examining the footprints and what looks like an empty bottle of white liquor near the chicken coop.  She spots me and frowns, her eyes narrowing slightly.  A shiver runs down my spine.  I’m not sure if it’s from the cold.  She nods once at her partner, then goes back to what she was doing.  

 

“Once we take your statement, we’ll take this back to Headquarters,” he continues, seemingly unaware of his partner’s displeasure.  “We have ways of determining who’s at fault.”

 

I don’t have any doubt of that.  The Capitol’s got all sorts of technology that we don’t.  But I can’t imagine them wasting their time on a nobody from the Seam.

 

“Do you really think you’ll find the assholes who did this?” Peeta pipes up, his tone just the right mix of angry and grateful.  “I don’t like the thought of my cousins being treated like this.” 

 

I feel a wash of relief at Peeta’s words.  He’s playing up our family relationship.  I don’t think Darius is the jealous type, but I’d rather not take any chances.  Darius has been kind so far, but guys do weird things when they get jealous. 

 

I’m doubly grateful when I note Darius’s reaction.  His eyes glitter protectively, a mirror of Peeta’s. 

 

“I promise you I’ll do my best. And when we find the perpetrators,” Darius clenches a gloved fist, “they will pay.”

 

**oOo**

 

After a cup of tea and a little stilted conversation, Peeta heads back to the bakery, leaving Darius and me alone.  Purnia’s still sorting out the evidence and I have no idea where Prim has disappeared to.  She’s probably afraid I’m going to yell at her for getting Darius and Purnia, and she’s right.  

 

Darius clears his throat, looking down into his half-finished tea. “I mean it, Katniss.  I’m gonna have my whole squad looking into this.  This kind of behavior is not acceptable.”

 

“Don’t.  It’ll just make it worse.”  I reach out to place a hand on his arm.  “This was probably just a bunch of stupid kids looking for a cheap thrill.  Can’t go make out at the slag heap, so let’s throw rocks at windows.  Probably drunk, too.  You know how it is.”  I’m deliberately downplaying the attack.

 

I wonder if it wasn’t my ex-boyfriend Gale and his cronies, looking for a little fun.  I know how much he hates the Capitol, and anyone he sees as collaborating with them.  Add that to our already acrimonious breakup and you have a recipe for retaliation.  

 

But I don’t dare accuse him without proof.  

 

Hazelle would never forgive me, not that I’d blame her.  The problem is that I’d have to find someone else to take care of Aven.  Hazelle’s the cheapest.  I wish I could drop out of school, I could probably run a daycare out of the house if I did, but Panem’s got rules about that, and I don’t qualify.  

 

Pulling my hand back, I finish the rest of my tea.  “You saw what the rocks had written on them.  If you,” I stress the word ‘you,’ “pursue this so hard and so diligently, they’ll wonder what I did to warrant the Capitol’s protection.  So many people already hate the Capitol even though it isn’t warranted,” I hasten to add.  “You don’t need to give those people any more reason to hate the Capitol.  In time, this will just blow over.  They’ll find something else to talk about and leave me alone.”

 

The muscle in Darius’s jaw twitches.  “I suppose I don’t have to write it up right now.”  He looks at me, his sea-green eyes pleading.  “But I’m worried about you, Katniss.  I worry about your safety.  I promise not to push, but I know I can protect you.”

 

“I know you can too,” I agree.  “But I just don’t know if I’m ready for that level of commitment.  I’m only fifteen.”

 

He thins his lips.  “At least let me pay for the windows.”

 

I shake my head.  “You’ve already done so much for me, Dar.  I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

 

“It wouldn’t be taking advantage.”

 

“Yeah, it would.”  I pause and think about it, an idea forming.  “If you really want to help, you could tell Prim you paid for the windows.  She doesn’t know about Donaldson or the money, and this way I wouldn’t have to come up with a lie.”

 

Darius’s eyes darken.  “Why is this your responsibility?” he asks slowly, glancing around the room.  “Where is your mother?”

 

I freeze.  That’s the last thing I was expecting him to ask.

 

I don’t have a story ready.  I can’t use my standard story, that she’s out on a job.  If she were, she’d be bringing in money, money Darius knows we don’t have.

 

Darius just stares at me, waiting for the answer.

 

Finally, I take a deep breath and say, “She’s sick.  Really, really sick.  She’ll get better, I’m sure of it, but until then, I’ve got to take care of my family.”  It’s the truth.  Just not the full truth.  I just hope he buys it without asking for proof.

 

He looks at me.  I’m not sure if he’s trying to read my mind, but it feels like he is.  After a moment, his eyes flick around the room, pausing on Aven’s carved bear.  He looks at me again and slowly nods.  “Is there anything I can do to help?”

 

I breathe a sigh of relief.  “Thank you.  You’re already doing enough.”

 

The words come out harsher than I want.  But for some reason, I don’t do anything to soften them.

 

Prim’s not the only one who’s becoming hard.  

 

I am too.

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 10/7/16  
> Revised: 11/14/16  
> Revised 2: 11/28/16  
> Betaread by: Amy & Xerxia 
> 
>  
> 
> We know who broke the windows, but we’d be interested to see who you think it might be.
> 
>  
> 
> As you can see, Peeta is back but not entirely - he and Katniss are still on tenterhooks, figuring out where they stand with each other.
> 
>  
> 
> Things we Randomized:  
> \-- Nothing
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!
> 
>  
> 
> Curious about what else we’re doing? Check out our original writing under the name Christina Rose Andrews on tumblr, twitter, and facebook.


	10. Unity Is Strength

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ He looks at me.  I’m not sure if he’s trying to read my mind, but it feels like he is.  After a moment, his eyes flick around the room, pausing on Aven’s carved bear.  He looks at me again and slowly nods.  “Is there anything I can do to help?” _

 

_ I breathe a sigh of relief.  “Thank you.  You’re already doing enough.” _

 

_ The words come out harsher than I want.  But for some reason, I don’t do anything to soften them. _

 

_ Prim’s not the only one who’s becoming hard.   _

 

_ I am too. _

 

**oOo**

 

_ “Unity is strength... when there is teamwork and collaboration, wonderful things can be achieved.”  
― Mattie Stepanek _

 

**oOo**

 

Prim buys my excuse that Darius paid for the windows.  Her trust is bolstered when he hires the Capitol-approved carpenter to install them.  Darius even gives us several bayberry-scented candles to help deal with the lingering smell of ammonia and urea.  He told me he wouldn’t test the samples he took, and I want to believe him, but each time he glances at Prim’s or my fingers, his sea green eyes grow stormy.

 

After the attack, school becomes painfully uncomfortable.  Most of the Merchants already gave me a wide berth, but seeing distaste and antipathy on Seam faces is a new experience.  I’m even more thankful for Thom’s friendship.  I hope his association with me doesn’t hurt his family’s business.  It could.  If it did, Thom might be forced to cut ties with me to keep them safe.  And I wouldn’t blame him one bit.  

 

Delly’s as cheerful as ever, sympathizing at my family’s predicament and continually offering to help in whatever way she can.  From casseroles to curtains, she’s offered pretty much everything.  Every day she drops by my house with something, and every day I turn her down.  I already owe enough people.  I don’t need to owe more.

 

She makes a little moue of distaste when she brings it up over lunch.  “But we’re friends!  Friends help each other!  Why, I’m sure you’d help me if the same thing had happened!”

 

“I’d help where I could,” I hedge.  I do consider Delly a friend.  But friendship in the Seam is different than it is in town.  I’m not sure she gets that.  “It’s just… I don’t have very much.”

 

“You think we do?”  Her voice is unexpectedly hard.  “My parents have six kids.  And…” her voice drops, “I know what you’re going through.  And I wanna help.”

 

I frown at her.  “What do you mean?”

 

She leans in closer and lowers her voice even further, until I have to move toward her to hear what she’s saying.  “What do you know about my family?” 

 

The question surprises me.  What do I know?  I know her parents are the local shoemakers.  Both of them are Merchants.  Apparently they have a large family.  And they make enough so Delly can be pudgy.  “Not much,” I admit.  “I don’t even know their names.  I never really paid attention to Merchants.”  Now that I say it, I realize how bad it sounds.  I wince.  “I’m sorry.”

 

Delly nods, like it’s the answer she expected.  “My ma was in the Community Home,” she says, her voice becoming uncharacteristically serious.  “My grandparents died of the measles when she was nine.  She spent her whole life there.  That’s all she ever knew.  But the day after her last Reaping, she was kicked out, with nary a ‘fair thee well.’  She was eighteen.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.  It’s not your fault, you didn’t do it.”  She shrugs.  “It’s nobody’s fault.  It’s just the way the system works.  But the odds weren’t in her favor.  She had no place to go, nowhere to live, and no job.  No Merchant would hire her because she didn’t have any skills, not even as a cashier.  The mines wouldn’t even take her, said she wasn’t strong enough.”

 

I wince, but I sense Delly isn’t finished with her story.

 

“My ma told me she had to do a lot of things she never wanted us kids to do to put food in her belly, even moved in with a Peacekeeper for a few years.”  She pauses, glancing around.  Her voice drops to almost a whisper.  “My oldest brother is a Peacekeeper’s son.  It’s why Allen’s got red hair.”  She brightens, pulling away.  “My ma got lucky when she met my pa.  It was love at first sight, he told his parents he wouldn’t marry anyone else but her.  It was quite the scandal back in their day.  If your mom and dad hadn’t come along right after it, why, it’d still be the talk of the town!  After the Peacekeeper left, Pa adopted Allen as his own, raised him up since he was barely knee-high.”  Her eyes hold mine.  “So I guess I’m just saying I understand.  No, that’s not the right word.  I don’t know what the right word, but I get that you do what you need to do in order to survive.”  She smirks.  “Everyone in Twelve should know that.  Just because they haven’t become desperate enough to think outside the box doesn’t mean they get to judge you because you have.”  Her face spreads into a wide grin.  “I really admire you, y’know.”

 

“You do?”

 

“Yeah.  Peeta’s told me all about you, but now that I’ve gotten to know you, I can see what he sees in you.”  She reaches out and gives me a quick hug.  “I’m glad you’re my friend.”

 

I stare at her, speechless.  She thinks I’m special?  She’s happy to be my friend?  I don’t think I’ll ever understand Delly.  “T-thank you,” I stammer out, dropping my eyes to my hands.  

 

And then what she just told me sinks in.  Her mother, a Merchant, was the mistress of a Peacekeeper.  Her mother did the very thing Darius is proposing I do.  And, as far as I’m aware, no one treats Mrs. Cartwright with disdain.  She’s the shoemaker’s wife, a little round woman with a big smile who no one says anything bad about.

 

Maybe some of my worries about taking up with Darius are unfounded.  Delly’s brother doesn’t suffer the stigma of being a Peacekeeper’s child.  He’s just another Cartwright.  Mrs. Cartwright was able to fall in love and get married after her arrangement ended.  Maybe I could too.

 

But that doesn’t solve my other problem.  I still don’t know if I can ever be with a Peacekeeper after what happened with Donaldson.

 

I look up from my lap to see Peeta regarding me with an expression of concern mixed with curiosity.  But he doesn’t ask what I’m thinking.  Instead, he changes the subject to the improved weather, and the rest of lunch passes peacefully.

 

That afternoon, Delly walks home with me.  It’s Prim’s turn to pick up Aven after she spends a few hours out in the woods.  I’ve given up trying to keep my sister from going under the fence.  It’s not worth the fight. 

 

“Did you really mean what you said?” I ask, pouring the Merchant girl a cup of tea.

 

She wraps her hands around the mug.  “That I admire you?”

 

I nod.

 

“Yeah.  I do.  I don’t know how you do it, Katniss.  Going out past the fence, taking care of your family after your dad died?  It’s just… you’re really strong.”  She shakes her head.  “I don’t think I could be that strong.”

 

I pick up my own mug and sit down next to her.  “I’m not strong, I just do what I have to do to take care of my family.”

 

Delly sips her tea.  “I think you are.  So, have you started work on that essay?” she changes the subject.

 

I just tilt my head and stare at her.  What is it with her and that stupid essay?  “It’s kind of been a low priority,” I say instead of what I’m thinking.  There’s no need to be rude.  “I’m not really interested in a trip to the Capitol.  I don’t think I could leave my family, you know?”

 

“Oh.”  Her face falls.  “I hadn’t thought about that.  I am so sorry!  I’m being so insensitive!  Here I am, babbling away about how I could see the Capitol, and travel, and you’re stuck.”  She places her hand on mine.  “Please forgive me?  I didn’t mean it.”

 

Once again, I’m rendered speechless by the blond girl.  Nobody can be this nice.  Yet somehow Delly is.  I don’t sense any insincerity in her.

 

I nod.  I don’t think she has anything to apologize for, but if she thinks she needs my forgiveness, she’s welcome to it.

 

“So,” she looks around my house, “you want to play a game?”

 

“I don’t really play games.”  Passing time in school doesn’t count.  Besides, playing tic-tac-toe during the assembly was Peeta’s idea.  

 

She stares at me like I’ve grown two heads.  “Why not?  I mean, don’t you play games with your little brother and sister?”

 

“Sure, but those are kid games.”

 

“What do you do with Thom?”

 

“Talk, mostly.”  I shrug, sipping my tea.  “I show him how to hunt and he shows me how to repair furniture.”

 

Delly frowns.  “That doesn’t sound like fun at all.”

 

I shrug again.  What am I supposed to say?  She’s right.  It isn’t fun.  But fun doesn’t keep my family fed or a roof over our heads.  I turn the tables on her.  “What do you and Peeta do for fun?”

 

“Well, when we were little, we used to play house all the time.  And he was the only one of my playmates who wouldn’t tear the heads off my paper dolls.”

 

“And now?”

 

“Mostly we play cards or board games.”

 

“I don’t have any of those.”  We’ve never had them.  They’re luxuries.

 

Delly roots around in her schoolbag, pulling out a small box that rattles.  “I do!”  She opens it to reveal a folded-up checkered board, several small figurines, and a few brightly colored rocks.  “It’s called chess.  My ma taught me.  She used to play it all the time with, well, you know,” she says, clearly referring to the Peacekeeper.  “But she liked the game, so she taught the whole family.”  She sets the pieces up along either side of the board.  “Sorry about the rocks, but a few of the pawns have gone missing.  My baby brother swallowed one last week.”

 

I wince.  “Is he okay?”

 

“Yeah, but no one wanted to go through his diaper to retrieve it.”  

 

I can’t blame them.  I’ve changed enough diapers that I wouldn’t want to go through one either.

 

Delly tilts her head.  “Do you want me to teach you how to play?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Great!”  Delly finishes her tea, then looks at me.  “But I want something in return.”

 

My eyes narrow.  “What?”

 

She twiddles her fingers a little before looking up at me.  “I want you to tell me about Thom.  I really really like him.  And…”  She picks at her fingernail.  “I think he might be the one.”

 

It’s a bargain I’m willing to take.  “I’m not going to tell you anything too personal,” I warn.  I like Delly, but my loyalty is with Thom.

 

“That’s okay.  Anything is good.  And I can tell you about Peeta if you want.  I mean, the chess was sort of my idea.  You don’t owe me for it.  But we can share stories.”

 

I think about the baker, who still manages to confuse me, and nod.  “Sounds like a deal.”

 

**oOo**

 

The days settle into a sameness.  Now that the snow’s starting to melt, Prim and I set out more and more snares in the woods.  We don’t catch much, but it’s enough to keep us going.  Darius stops by almost daily, bringing little gifts, mostly food and other small, almost inconsequential things.  A bookmark.  A ribbon.  A pair of gloves.  Nothing I feel I have to say no to. 

 

But at the end of the week, he gives me something which makes me pause.  A string of beads with a maroon and white seashell dangling in the center.  I stare at him in shock.  We don’t have shells like this in Twelve.  And from what little I know about Two, I suspect they don’t have shorelines there either.  This has to be something from District Four.  From his home.  Something he’s managed to keep with him all of these years.

 

This isn’t a little gift.

 

I try to hand it back to him.  “Darius, I can’t accept this.  It’s too much.  It’s too personal.”

 

“I want you to have it.”  He keeps his eyes on mine, folding my hand over the necklace.  “It was my mom’s, and after she died, I wore it all the time.”

 

“They let you keep it?”  The question spills out before I can think.

 

“What do you think they do?  Strip everything away from you that makes you an individual?”

 

I nod.

 

He smiles wryly.  “You’re not too far off.  They take away pretty much everything, but they let you keep one thing.  And then the trainers use it as incentive.  If you do a good job and make the Capitol proud, you get to keep your token.  For most of us, it was a stuffed animal or a picture of our family.  But for me it was this.”  He touches one dangling glass bead with the tip of his finger.  “I’d be honored if you’d wear it.”

 

I open my hand and stare at the necklace.

 

“Please, Katniss.  I’m not asking you to make up your mind right now, but I’d like you to have it.”

 

It means so much to him that I feel like I have no choice but to say yes.  So I do.

 

His eyes crinkle at the corners as a wide grin spreads across his face.  “Thank you.  Can I…”  He motions to my neck.

 

I nod.

 

He drapes the necklace around my neck, fastening it behind me.  Then he moves to my front to survey his handiwork.  His eyes sweep over my body, lingering at the hollow of my throat, where the calico-patterned seashell lies.  “It looks beautiful.  You’re beautiful,” he stammers out.  “It’s like it was made special, just for you.”

 

“Thank you,” I murmur, not really sure what to say.  His words make me feel uncomfortable.  I like Darius, but I don’t know what to make of the depth of his feelings toward me.  I don’t feel the same way toward him.

 

“Can we… can I kiss you again?” he asks, reaching out to trace a finger along the string of beads hanging around my neck.  

 

I nod, not really trusting myself to speak.  

 

His fingers slide up my neck to cup my chin and he bends down to capture my lips with his.  As before, the kiss is soft, gentle.

 

I let myself be drawn into it, revelling in the taste and sense of him.  I deliberately refuse to let my mind wander.  I don’t want what happened last time to happen again.

 

After a few seconds, Darius pulls away, a bright smile shining on his face.  “Thank you.  That was perfect.  You’re perfect.”

 

I duck my head and smile, not willing to meet his eyes.  I’m miles away from perfect.  But what good would it do to contradict him?

 

**oOo**

 

As soon as Darius leaves, I remove the necklace.  I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to lose it, that I don’t want anything happen to it.  But in reality, I know it’s because I’m uncomfortable wearing it.  It doesn’t feel right.  I don’t want to wear his mother’s necklace.  In fact, I’d like to avoid wearing it at all.  But I can’t let him know that.  I’ll have to remember to wear high-necked shirts from now on or, if I know I’m seeing Darius, put it back on.

 

That night, I sleep fitfully.  I haven’t really slept well since the attack, my ears constantly straining for any out of place sound.  Oddly enough, I tend to sleep the deepest once I hear the rest of the Seam awaken.  Knowing the miners are heading off to work, that, if anything were to happen, there’d be witnesses, possibly ones who wouldn’t hold their tongues, allows me to get at least a little sleep.

 

I still have no idea who might’ve perpetrated the attack.  The only thing I know for sure is it’s not someone from the Capitol.  They have other ways, worse ways, of making my life hell.  They don’t need to drunkenly throw urine-filled bottles through my window.  I can’t see Thom or Delly or Peeta carrying it out either.  But that still leaves the majority of Twelve as potential suspects.

 

By the time I rouse myself from my bed, it’s mid-morning.  I should have been up earlier to take advantage of it being a weekend, but my body had other plans.  From out in the main room, I hear the sound of Aven humming the Valley Song.  He must be playing.  I long for the days when I could play innocently without a care in the world.  I want to keep that for him for as long as I can.  I’m too late to save Prim’s childhood, but Aven has a chance.

 

Leaving Darius’s necklace on the bedside table, I get dressed.  The house is cold, but I don’t want to spend what little money we have left buying still more coal.  We’ll have to make do with what we’ve got until things get better.

 

My eyes flick to my mother.  She’s curled up on one side, facing the window.  I can’t tell if she’s asleep or awake.  I’m not sure if it matters anymore.

 

I head out into the main room, seeking breakfast.  My mouth salivates at the thought of scrambled egg soup.  I wonder if Prim’s gathered the egg yet.

 

When I enter the room, I spot Aven in his favorite play spot underneath the kitchen table.  Next to him are rag dolls and carved animals.  He’s content, but I’m not.  Prim’s nowhere to be seen.  I frown.  Surely she didn’t leave to go hunting without telling me.  Aven’s too young to be left without actual supervision.  My annoyance grows as I put on the kettle for tea and Prim still hasn’t made an appearance.

 

“Aven?” I ask, turning to my little brother.  “Do you know where Prim is?”

 

“She went potty,” he answers without looking up.

 

“How long has she been gone?”

 

He shrugs.  “I don’t know.  She sick?”

 

A little pit of concern worms its way through the annoyance.  “Why do you think she’s sick?”

 

My little brother looks up and I’m struck by just how much he looks like my father, only with blond hair.

 

“‘Cause she was cryin’ and holdin’ her tummy.”

 

The concern swells, overwhelming everything else.  “Think you can be a good boy while I go and check on her?”

 

Aven nods.  “I’ll stay here.”  He points at the kitten, curled up on the softest chair.  “Buttercup will watch me.”  

 

Buttercup meows once, as if in agreement.

 

I don’t wait any longer.  Grabbing my shawl from the hook by the back door, I go out back to the outhouse.  I note that there are fresh boot prints heading in that direction.  So Aven was right.  My sister did come out here.  I knock on the outhouse door.  “Prim?  You in there?”

 

“Go away.”

 

That answers my question.  “You okay?”

 

“What part of ‘go away’ do you not understand?”  She sounds like she’s been crying.

 

Rather than stand in the snow and argue, I open the outhouse door.  

 

My sister is seated on the bench, her knees drawn up to her chest.  Red tear streaks stain her cheeks.  

 

“What’s wrong, little duck?”  I sit down next to her, putting an arm around her thin shoulders.

 

Prim buries her head against my shoulder and mumbles something, the words lost in the wool of my shawl.

 

“Can you repeat that?”

 

She moves away but still doesn’t look at me.  “I’m not like you.”

 

I’m confused.  Of course Prim isn’t just like me, that goes without saying.  The real question is why would she want to be?  “Okay?”

 

“I’m not strong.  I try to be, but I’m not.”

 

“What’s this all about?”

 

Prim lets out a shuddering breath.  “I went to the Justice Building this morning.”

 

My heart sinks.  She went to take out tesserae.  My little sister took out tesserae.  I want to cry.  “Oh, Prim…”  

 

“No!  I couldn’t do it!”  She finally looks at me as she clutches her knees tighter.  “I wanted to do it.  I needed to do it.  Everything’s been going wrong, even with Peeta’s tesserae!  I can’t sit here and watch you kill yourself one inch at a time and do nothing.”

 

“Prim, please tell me you didn’t take out tesserae.”  I want to believe her, but after everything else that’s gone wrong, I can’t.  There’s a lump in my stomach that keeps getting bigger and bigger.  If Prim actually took out tesserae, I feel like it will swallow me up.

 

She shakes her head.  “Didn’t you hear what I said?  I couldn’t!”

 

The lump shrinks.  “Good!”

 

“No!”

 

Seeing that I’m getting nowhere, I change tack.  “So why couldn’t you take out tesserae?”  

 

Prim looks at the floor.  “I was scared.  I don’t want to die, Katniss.”

 

I understand what she’s saying.  Taking out tesserae means you’re more likely to get Reaped.  It’s why Seam kids end up in the Games more often than Merchant ones.  The odds aren’t in their favor.  I lean in closer to her.  “Can I let you in on a secret?”

 

She nods.

 

“When I went to the Justice Building that first time, my knees were shaking and my heart was pounding.  I was so scared.  I did it for you and Aven and Mom and Dad.  But you want to know one other reason why I did it?”

 

She bites her lip.  “So me and Aven wouldn’t have to?”

 

“That’s right.”  I put my arm around Prim again, pulling her closer to me.  “I don’t ever want you to take out tesserae.  Ever.  And I will do anything, and I mean anything, to make sure you won’t have to.”

 

“How can you be so strong?”  Her tears start back up again.

 

“You and Aven make me strong.”

 

Prim looks up at me, her eyes glistening.  “But why can’t I be more like you?”

 

“Because you’re you, and I’m me.”  I look around, realizing we’re still sitting in the outhouse.  “So, you think you can come back inside and we can have breakfast and maybe go hunting?”

 

Prim sniffs loudly and nods.  “Promise me you won’t tell anyone I was acting like such a baby.”

 

“I promise.”

 

**oOo**

 

The snow in the Meadow crunches underneath Prim’s and my feet.  Our eyes are peeled for any patrols.  We dropped Aven off with Delly before coming out.  She was ecstatic that I finally took her up on her offer to help.  Both she and her mother gushed over my little brother, maybe if things don’t work out with Hazelle I can work out an arrangement with Mrs. Cartwright.  She seems to like kids.  And her family could use the skins from the animals I trap in their shoemaking business.

 

But first we need to catch something, and do to that, we need to get out into the woods without being spotted.  There’s several paths leading to and around the fence, possibly from Peacekeepers or maybe even more adventurous types, like Gale and myself, who slip out into the woods seeking extra sustenance.  Late morning and early afternoon aren’t the best time to go hunting, but this isn’t about catching anything, although that’s certainly one of the goals.  This is more about restoring my sister’s confidence.

 

Once Prim and I are in the woods, we retrieve our bows from the hollow log and set off.  The problem with hunting in the wintertime is that the easiest way to hunt, by picking a spot and staying put until the animal comes to you, isn’t a good option.  That’s how you end up with hypothermia.  The other way, finding tracks and following them, is safer, but with the crystallized snow, we have to work extra hard to make sure we don’t give ourselves away.  I’m pretty sure it’s a lost cause; the snow is the perfect mix of hard on top and soft underneath so we keep breaking through.  Instead, I keep my eyes open for what little we can gather this time of year.

 

I spy a patch of wintergreen at the base of a large stand of trees and motion to my sister that I’m going to gather the berries and leaves.  

 

Prim nods and stands beside me, alert.

 

I’m glad we came out, wintergreen is a good find.  The leaves make a sweet aromatic tea and the berries, while tasteless, are nutritious and add a bright spot of color to our bland tesserae mush, which sometimes helps Aven choke it down.

 

“Katniss,” Prim breathes, “don’t move.”

 

I freeze.

 

A few seconds later, I hear the thwang of a bowstring.  Whirling, I get to my feet, my own bow at the ready.  But I don’t need it.  Several yards away, underneath a snow-covered pine tree, lies a male pheasant with an arrow sticking out of its eye.  Pheasants aren’t usually out this time of day.  The drier area underneath the tree must have been where it bedded down. The noises I made gathering must have disturbed it.  I place a hand on my sister’s shoulder, a smile spreading across my face.  “You did it!  Good job.”

 

Prim stares at the pheasant, then back at me.  “I did, didn’t I?”

 

“Yeah!  If you keep this up, we won’t need more tesserae.”  I keep my voice encouraging.

 

Prim tilts her head, seeming to consider it.  “You’re right.”

 

“Of course I am.”  I feel myself getting more hopeful.  This hunt was good for more than just Prim.  “I mean, we’ve already been hunting, but we just have to make it through to spring.  Things will be better in spring.  There’ll be more animals to hunt and more food that we can gather.”

 

Prim nods again and points at the pine tree.  “We should probably grab some of the bark while we’re out here.”

 

“The needles too,” I add.  “They don’t taste very good but people will need it.  I’m starting to see signs of scurvy.  Mom always dosed all of her patients with pine needle tea, this time of year.”

 

“You’re right,” she says, grimacing at the memory of the taste.

 

“Of course I am.  I’m the big sister.  Big sisters are always right.”

 

Prim laughs.  

 

It feels good to hear it.  I’ve missed the sound.  My sister’s been so solemn since our father’s death, I’ve started to wonder if she even knew how to laugh anymore.  Not that there’s been much to laugh, or even smile about.  But Prim’s so young, she’s still a child.  She shouldn’t have to worry about adult things like how to keep our family fed or any of the the other things she’s had to deal with in the past months.  

 

She stops and looks over at me.  “Katniss?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You think, you and me, if we can hunt and gather enough, we might be able to tell Peeta he doesn’t have to bring us tesserae anymore?”  Her tone is hopeful, almost pleading.  She wants so badly for the answer to be yes.

 

I think about it, really think about it.  I don’t want to tell my sister that I’m pretty sure it’ll be impossible.  Without our parents’ income, we don’t have enough to survive.  Even with Peeta’s contribution, it hasn’t been enough.  Hunting and gathering will help in spring, but it can only do so much.  People crave what’s on the the other side of the fence, but that doesn’t mean we get paid well for it.  We don’t always get money in trade, sometimes we get less useful goods.  We can survive without Prim getting tesserae.  But, in order to not need Peeta’s tesserae, our mom would have to recover or we’d have to find some other steady source of income.  

 

I deliberately push Darius’s offer out of my mind.  I don’t want to think about my problems right now.  I just want to enjoy this moment of happiness with my sister.

 

Speaking of, I need to actually give Prim an answer.

 

“It’d be tough, but maybe?”  I don’t want to lie to her, but I’m not about to dash her hopes, not when she’s just beginning to feel hope again.

 

“Yeah, you’re right.  It will be tough.  But if we’re lucky, and we work really hard, we can do anything.  We just gotta think outside the box.”  She looks over at the pheasant, then back at me.  “You think we can sell the feathers?  They’re really pretty, and the hatmaker or the tailor or the furrier maybe could do something with them.  Oh, or the florist!  I bet they’d be really pretty in a bouquet or something.”

 

I realize Prim’s right.  I might’ve considered making arrows from the feathers, but selling them never crossed my mind.  Furs, yes.  But feathers?  The tail feathers especially will fetch a good price.  Maybe Prim has a point.  If we think outside the box, we can make it on our own.  

 

It wouldn’t hurt to try.

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 11/6/16  
> Revised: 11/25/16   
> Revised 2: 12/26/16  
> Betaread by: Xerxia & Amy
> 
> Long authors’ note ahead. Sorry. A lot happened here.
> 
> Time to get a little bit of Delly’s backstory. We figured even Merchants can end up in the Community Home, and that people aren’t automatically given houses or places to live when they’re no longer eligible for the Reaping. We headcanon that people are eligible for houses when they get married after their last Reaping. Until then, you’re supposed to live with your family. Unless you live in the Community Home, where, much like the foster system in the US, when you age out, you’re out. It’s not a good system. Katniss is not wrong about her fear of the Community Home - the Community Home kids get screwed. If you think the Seam has it bad, the Community Home has it worse. If you’re eight or under and in good health, you get separated from your family and sent to Two to become a Peacekeeper. If you’re still in the Community Home when you’re twelve, you’re forced to take out tesserae for all surviving family members and you get kicked out of the Community Home and left to fend for yourself on June 2nd, the day after your last Reaping. As it applies to Delly’s family situation, her mom, while a Merchant, went through all this, and ended up acting as a live-in mistress and housekeeper for a Peacekeeper, much like the situation that Darius is offering Katniss. Her situation lasted for a few years, and Delly doesn’t know how or why it ended - she assumes because her mother met her father and got married, but that may or may not be the truth.
> 
> Darius is still lobbying to be Katniss’s love interest, but as you might have noticed, Katniss is still leery of the prospect. The shell on the necklace he gives her is from what’s called a calico scallop, while the beads are sea glass. We figured that the Peacekeeper trainees would be allowed tokens from their home districts, but they’d be used as incentive to do well. Those who fail lose their tokens. Those who succeed get to keep them. And in some particularly egregious cases, the tokens are actually destroyed. In Darius’s case, he did well enough to actually keep his, and he’s now giving it to Katniss. It’s essentially the equivalent of offering an engagement and/or promise ring. Katniss still isn’t sure of what her answer is, but Darius is going to keep wooing her, hoping she’ll say yes and choose him.
> 
> It was definitely time for Prim to go take out tesserae - but as much as she’s become more like Katniss, she’s still Prim. She’s not quite as fearless, and the idea of being in the Games terrifies her.
> 
> Things we Randomized:  
> \--If Katniss and Prim hunted/gathered and if they got anything (success this time around!)
> 
> In other news, we’re excited to announce that a short story we wrote is being published in an erotica anthology entitled Red Hots. The paperback comes out January 14 and e-book pre-orders will be going up around that time. We are super excited for this opportunity. We hope you’ll stick with us. 
> 
> You can get more information here:  
> Tumblr: http://christinaroseandrews.tumblr.com/  
> Twitter: https://twitter.com/croseandrews  
> Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/christinaroseandrews/  
> Mailing List: http://eepurl.com/cvbW9T
> 
> Until next time! Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!


	11. Hand of Friendship

Last Time in  Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged:

 

_ I realize Prim’s right.  I might’ve considered making arrows from the feathers, but selling them never crossed my mind.  Furs, yes.  But feathers?  The tail feathers especially will fetch a good price.  Maybe Prim has a point.  If we think outside the box, we can make it on our own.   _

 

_ It wouldn’t hurt to try. _

 

**oOo**

 

**Chapter Eleven: Hand of Friendship**

 

**oOo**

 

_ “We’re all gifted with the opportunity to succeed. But you get further if you extend the hand of friendship.” _

_ ― Jimmy Little _

 

**oOo**

 

Monday.  I hate Monday.  I don’t want to go to school.  Ever, really.

 

I don’t see the point.  Why spend eight hours a day learning stuff that has no relevance for the rest of my life?  It’s not like being able to recite the history of Panem or what chemical impurities taint various kinds of coal is going to be useful in the future.  History changes based on whatever President Snow wants it to be each year, and the Capitol won’t allow us hicks in the districts to use any specialized chemicals for fear we might make a bomb.  Even if I do end up working in the mines, I won’t need that information.  Miners aren’t expected to think, they’re expected to work.

 

So, other than being able to spell my name correctly and add up how much money I don’t have each month, school is worthless.  And annoying. 

 

Especially today.

 

The rumor mills are still working overtime even though the attack took place almost a week ago.  Merchant and Seam girls gossip and stare at me, some accusingly, some knowingly.  A few of the braver boys say things where I’m sure to overhear.  Things like how easy I am, how I give it up for a few slices of bread or cans of food.  It’s humiliating.

 

Surprisingly, Gale Hawthorne is one of my few defenders.  Not because he wants to be nice, but because everyone knows I wouldn’t sleep with him.  He makes the case there’s no way I’d have sex with anyone.  Just because I was seen going into Cray’s house doesn’t mean I was fucking the old Peacekeeper.  After all, Gale trades with Cray too, and he sure as hell isn’t letting the old man’s penis anywhere near him.

 

No, what Gale’s really upset about is that I’ve been spending time with Merchants.  He seems to forget I’m half-Merchant myself.  I can’t really blame him; I forget it most of the time, too.

 

But some of today’s whispers and rumors have a different tone to them.  One of anticipation rather than satisfaction.  Like they know something I don’t and can’t wait for me to find out.  

 

I get my answer at lunch.  As I walk into the lunchroom, I sense several heads turning to watch me.  I survey the room, trying to find what they want me to see.  Delly and Thom are in our usual place.  But where’s Peeta?  He should be with them.  I narrow my eyes, looking for him.

 

It doesn’t take me long to spot him.

 

He’s seated at one of the few tables, surrounded by a gaggle of Merchant kids, both older and younger.  He’s chatting and laughing with them, his arm slung around the shoulders of one of the girls.  She snuggles closer to him, resting her blond head against his shoulder.  It’s a familiar gesture.  Too familiar.

 

Who is this girl?

 

I can’t see much since her face is turned away from me.  All I can make out is straight white blond hair held back by a blue headband, which perfectly matches her calico dress.

 

The whispers in the lunchroom grow louder.  I’m guessing this is what they’ve all been waiting for me to see: Peeta with some girl.  It solidifies the thought that everyone assumed me and Peeta were dating.  I’m guessing they’re waiting for some huge blow up or for me to run off crying in a jealous haze.

 

Well, they’re not going to get it.

 

Turning my back on Peeta’s flirting, I weave my way over to Delly and Thom.  The two are oblivious to the potential drama, lost in their own world, but they both nod at me when I sit down.

 

“Peeta’s not going to be joining us,” Delly announces.  “I hope that’s okay.”

 

I frown.  “Why wouldn’t it be?”

 

A bright smile spreads across Delly’s face.  “That’s what I’d thought you’d say, but everyone was telling me how you were going to be so upset that Peeta’s dating Nata now.”  Delly gestures at the girl next to Peeta.  “You know Nata?  She’s the confectioners’ daughter, the ones who took over after the Donners had to give it up.  Anyways, she’s had her eye on Peeta for ages now, always coming around, having tea with his mom.  Frankly I’m surprised they didn’t start dating sooner!”

 

I know why Peeta didn’t start dating Nata sooner.  He was still holding out hope for me.  

 

“Nata’s not his first girlfriend, is she?” Thom asks.  “I thought Mellark had more game than that.”

 

Delly shakes her head.  “Of course not!  Why, he dated Hettie Anderson about two years ago.  She’s the blacksmith’s apprentice’s oldest, I think.  There’s another sister that they just don’t like to talk about, so it’s a little murky.  Um, and then there was Madge Undersee before she fell for his brother.  That was a scandal, let me tell you!  And this summer, Peeta went out with Luella MacIntyre.”

 

Thom winces.  “You mean Mrs. Mac’s kid?”  

 

“Yeah, her.”  Delly turns to me.  “Isn’t your sister in Mrs. Mac’s class?”  

 

The name sounds familiar.  “I think so.”

 

“Yeah, well, um, Peeta dated her daughter.  Not for very long, but it was long enough for Mrs. Mac to make his life hell.”  She shakes her head.  “Seriously, Lulu’s pretty and all, but there is no way you could convince me that dating any of Mrs. Mac’s kids would be worth it, at least while you’re still in school.”

 

Thom starts laughing.  “Do you know who dated everyone?  You’re like a who’s who of the Merchant social scene.”

 

The smile on Delly’s face falters.

 

“It’s not a bad thing,” Thom hurries to clarify.  “In fact it’s a good thing.  ‘Cause Katniss and me?  We don’t know nothing about Merchant politics.”

 

“Oh!”  Delly beams, brighter than ever.  “Well, if you want to know, just ask!  I know everything and everyone.  Because who pays attention to plain old Delly Cartwright?  No one, that’s who.  So people like to tell me things, ‘cause they know I’m not gonna judge them.”  She lowers her voice.  “Except I do.  Just a little.  You won’t tell, will you?”

 

“Of course not.”  My eyes drift back to see Peeta joking with another Merchant boy.  “Peeta seems happier over there.”

 

“He’s not.”  Delly’s voice is firm.

 

I look at her.  “Why do you say that?”

 

“‘Cause I know him.”  She gestures with her chin and I follow her gaze to where Peeta’s sitting.  “See that smile?”  

 

I nod.  

 

“It doesn’t quite reach his eyes.  And you note how he’s fiddling with the bread, rolling the crumbs into little balls?  That’s one of his tells.  It means he’s uncomfortable.”

 

Sure enough, Peeta’s rolling the bread he brought for lunch into neat little balls before popping them into his mouth. “So why is he sitting with them?”

 

“They’re Nata’s friends.”  She stresses the confectioners’ daughter’s name.  Delly holds up a hand.  “Oh, don’t get me wrong!  I may not like Nata’s friends, they’re too fake and social-climbing.  But I like Nata just fine.  She’s smart and she’s really really pretty.  But she’s also got a lot of pressure on her.  She’s in line to take over the business when her parents die.  Which means her mom’s been angling for her to make a good match for ages.”

 

“And Peeta’s a good match.”  It’s not a question.

 

“Of course he is!  It’s why I always keep track of who he’s dating.”  She nods her head for emphasis.  “He’s got a pretty good sense of who’s real and who’s not.  But he looks for the best in people.  I’m not saying that’s a bad thing.  But he doesn’t always see when someone likes him for what they can get from him rather than just for himself.”

 

This explains why Peeta was so angry when he found out about Darius.  He thought I was just using him.  Only being nice to him because of the tesserae.  And initially I was.  But my feelings changed as I got to know him.  It’s why his words hurt so much.  

 

Delly continues, unaware of my revelation.  “Ever since his parents made Peeta their heir when he was fourteen, girls have just been lining up, hoping to become the next Mrs. Mellark.”

 

“But he’s sixteen,” I protest.

 

“So?  You think that’s gonna stop them?”  Delly picks at her sandwich.  “You know, I envy you in the Seam.”

 

That is the last thing I’d expect to come out of a Merchant’s mouth.  “What do you mean?”

 

Delly turns to Thom.  “Was your parents’ marriage arranged?”

 

He shakes his head.

 

“And I know yours weren’t,” she points at me.  “And mine weren’t.  But they’re the exception in town, not the rule.  Peeta’s parents?  That’s an arranged marriage.  His oldest brother?  Also arranged.  Mrs. Undersee and Mr. Undersee?  Another arranged marriage.”  She ticks her examples off on her fingers.  “Pretty much the only times a Merchant’s marriage isn’t arranged by their parents is if they’re too poor to matter marrying another person who’s too poor to matter, or if it’s a second marriage.  The parents always pay attention to who their kid’s dating, especially if it might be a good match.  The future of the family business is more important than any individual’s happiness.”  She picks up one of the pieces of bread and starts tearing it into pieces, then rolling the pieces into balls.

 

I find myself wondering if Delly picked up the habit from Peeta or if Peeta picked it up from her.

 

She places the balls on the paper bag that held her lunch, absently lining them up into neat little rows.  “I’m lucky.  I’m really lucky.”  Her voice grows distant.  “My mom and dad don’t believe in that kind of thing.  And they don’t care if any of us kids take over the business.  Because I don’t want to make shoes.”  She shudders.  “I hate feet.  They’re smelly and sticky and gross.  Having to be around them for the rest of my life?  Ugh!” 

 

Thom reaches out and clasps her hand.  “So long as you’re with me, you’ll never have to hang around feet.”

 

“Awwww!  That’s the sweetest thing ever!”

 

He nuzzles her neck, planting a kiss on her cheek.  “Well, I think you’re the sweetest thing.  Sweeter than sugar, even.”

 

I turn away, unable to watch the two of them being sickeningly cute with each other.  I’m happy for Thom.  I’m happy for both of them.  But a part of me is envious of what my friends have.  I want a relationship like that for myself.

 

My hand reaches up to finger Darius’s necklace.  I didn’t really want to wear it, but if I ran into him before or after school and I wasn’t… well, better to wear it and not be caught in a lie.  If I accept Darius’s offer, pretty much any chance of my having a loving honest relationship goes out the window.  I know that.  It’s one of the reasons I don’t want to take it.

 

I glance up to find Peeta’s eyes on me and jerk my hand away guiltily.  Then I stop, confused.  I shouldn’t care what Peeta thinks of Darius’s gift.  Peeta’s a friend.  Just a friend.  He doesn’t have any claim on me.  No one has any claim on me.  I can do what I like with whom I like whenever I like.

 

So why does it feel like I can’t?

 

Things are all mixed up.  I need some clarity.  And there’s only one place where I can find that.

 

The woods.

 

**oOo**

 

My decision to take solace in the woods is a good one.  I might not be finding clarity, but I am finding peace.  It’s something I haven’t felt since before my father got sick, and I didn’t even realize I’d lost it.

 

After our shared trip to the woods, Prim and I set up a schedule.  She hunts and traps in the woods after school, while I go out in the mornings.  It’s a system which seems to work.  We both need what the woods can offer, and not just as a form of sustenance but also as salvation.  The problem is that we can’t just abandon Aven, and leaving him with Hazelle all the time is not a good idea.  She’ll become even more suspicious than she already is and we can’t risk her finding out about our mother.  So Prim and I split up, venturing into the woods alone.  We both know this can be dangerous, but right now, it’s the better choice.  The only choice.  

 

It’s so quiet this early.  It’s not quite late enough in the season for the birds to begin their pre-dawn song.  So the woods in the early morning hours are still.  Silent.  Even the breeze seems unwilling to shatter the tranquility.

 

At these times, I just stop and let it all wash over me, pulling my cares and worries away.  That isn’t to say I’m just going to the woods to meditate.  I’m not.  This early in the morning, every footstep or flap of wings carries through the air.  It makes finding prey easier.  I often come home with something, mostly mourning doves or the odd squirrel.  Nothing big, but it’s enough to stave away starvation for another day.

 

It feels good to do something to help my family.  All the more so, because hunting doesn’t require me to sell a piece of myself.  I’d love for Prim’s dream of using the woods to rescue us to come true.  I’d love to be able to turn Darius’s offer down.  I know he only offered it to me out of obligation, that he’d rather our feelings for each other be real.  He pretty much admitted just that.  I’d love to be able to save up for an emergency so that one sick child or shattered window wouldn’t put us on death’s door again.  Most of all, I’d love to feel like myself again.  Whole.  Without the fear, without the worry.  These moments in the woods are as close as I’ve been in months.

 

As I and my thoughts wander, I realize Peeta and Delly have never seen the real me.  I sit my back against a tree, watching the sky stain orange and pink as the sun rises.  I should show them this.  I should show them me.  The real me.

 

It’s nice enough now.  I should really hold up my end of the bargain I made with the boy with the bread.

 

I smile.

 

It’s time for Peeta Mellark to learn how to hunt.

 

**oOo**

 

My efforts to approach Peeta are stymied.  I can’t pass him a note during class; we sit too far apart and there’s too much of a chance it’ll be intercepted.  Going into the woods is illegal; if the wrong person read a message, it could be bad.  

 

Even more frustrating, he’s spending every free second with Nata.  I wasn’t upset to find out he was dating the confectioners’ daughter, but I’m annoyed that she’s monopolizing his time so much.  I barely see him anymore except during school.  Even then, he eats lunch with Nata and her friends instead of me and Thom and Delly.  It’s frustrating and I miss my friend.  

 

Finally, at the end of the day on Friday, I’ve had enough.  The weather’s too nice, and I promised Peeta I’d teach him to hunt.  I want to fulfill that promise.  Besides, it’s easier to learn tracking in the snow.  I don’t want to wait until next year to begin with Peeta, and considering his Merchant background, I doubt he has much experience with the outdoors.  He needs every bit of help he can get.

 

I wince in anticipation of just how loud his footsteps are going to be, consigning myself to several days of relying on the traps I set for meat.  I’ll have to remind myself just how patient my father was with me when he first took me out into the woods when I was seven.  Peeta hasn’t been doing this as long as Prim and I have.  He’s going to need time to learn.  If Aven were older, I’d teach them both at the same time.  That way I wouldn’t have to go through the hard part twice.

 

Oh well.  A promise is a promise.

 

After the final bell, I scoop up my bag, hoping to corner Peeta before he exits the building.  He’s already on his way out of the room, undoubtedly headed to pick up Nata.

 

“Hey, Peeta, wait up,” I call.

 

He turns, tilting his head at me, an expression of hopeful curiosity on his face.

 

All of a sudden, I feel nervous.  Like the first time I asked Bran Hatfield out.  My tongue’s tied and my heart is pounding against my chest.  I’m standing here in the hall looking like an idiot.  “Um... I, um… I just wanted to see what you were doing tomorrow?”  Crap!  It even sounds like I’m asking him on a date!

 

Hurriedly, I continue.  “It’s been really nice out, and I thought it would be a good time to, you know, start teaching you.”  I glance around and lower my voice.  “You know, things.”

 

The curiosity turns to amusement as Peeta watches me flounder.  “I don’t know, I’ll have to see what Nata and I have planned.”

 

“Did I hear you say my name?”  The younger girl drifts over, sliding an arm around Peeta’s waist, regarding me inquisitively.

 

He drapes his arm over her shoulders, giving them a brief squeeze.  “You did.  Katniss was just asking what we’re doing tomorrow.”

 

Her eyes narrow.  “Why?”  It’s directed at me.  There’s a whole forest of questions in that one word.  Why do I want to know?  Why am I asking Peeta, and not them both?  Why am I approaching him off to the side?  Don’t I know he’s dating her now?  Why aren’t I following the rules?

 

How am I supposed to explain that I want to take Peeta out under the fence to engage in an illegal activity that, if the Capitol were to find out we were doing it, might end with us being hanged, or worse?  I can’t give her the excuse that we need to work on homework.  And I’m pretty sure the cousin story that we’ve been spinning won’t fly with her. 

 

Instead, I try for a vague semblance of the truth.  “Um… I promised Peeta I’d teach him how to identify some kinds of herbs and plants once the weather was clear.  A couple of them are best harvested as soon as the snow melts.”  It’s not a complete lie, but I’m skirting the edges.

 

“Oh really?”  She tilts her head, spilling carefully arranged blond hair over her shoulder.  “Which ones?”

 

She’s calling me on my bluff.  “Um… maples.  And marsh mallows.  And wintergreen.”

 

Nata’s eyes brighten. “Oh!  We use those in our candies!”  She smiles at me, seemingly reassured that I’m not looking to steal her boyfriend.  “Mind if I tag along?”

 

Yes.  Yes I do mind very very much.  But how am I supposed to tell her that?  I don’t want to spend my Saturday watching Peeta snuggle up to his girlfriend.  I already do that enough at school.  Also, I’m pretty sure we’re not actually going to be doing much foraging.  Maybe a little while I set my snares, but mostly I’ll be showing Peeta how to track animals and walk silently.

 

I glance at Peeta, unsure of how to turn her down without seeming suspicious.

 

He seems to catch on.  “It’s going to be pretty cold,” Peeta tells her.  “And weren’t you just telling me how much you hate the cold and that you just lost your favorite winter gloves?  We’re going to be spending a couple of hours outside, all over Twelve.”  He lifts her hand to kiss her fingers.  “Wouldn’t want these getting frostbite.”  The look on his face is tender, playful.  

 

She shoots me a glance, as if to say, ‘Look at him; this is what you had and you gave it up.  You stupid girl.’

 

Part me of me wants to tell her Peeta was never mine, so her attempt to make me jealous isn’t going to work.  But another part of me knows it is working.  Peeta was never this gallant with me.  A third part of me knows this isn’t the real him; Delly knows him best and she’s certain of that.  So as much as I wants to rub this fact in Nata’s face, I don’t.  Peeta’s diffused the situation and given me an out: no need to reignite the fire.

 

Nata turns back to Peeta.  “But we’ve got that thing on Saturday.  You know.  We’re supposed to go to the Mayor’s house and have tea.  I made almond macaroons special.”

 

“They sound delicious, but tea’s not until three.  Katniss and I will be done by… what do you say?  Noon?”

 

I nod.  “We’ll definitely be done by then.  And maybe Peeta will be able to bring something special for your tea.”  I struggle to find the right thing to say.  “I don’t want to mess up any of your plans.  But I promised Peeta I’d teach him about what kinds of things he can forage.  You know, for when he takes over the bakery.”

 

She looks at me thoughtfully.  “Why are you helping him?”

 

“Because he asked me to.  And we’re friends,” I answer quickly.  I realize the words are true.  Me and Peeta are friends.  Or at least we’re getting there.  “So does seven work?”

 

Peeta nods.  “I’ll be up then anyways.”  He smiles.  “Baker’s hours.”

 

“Meet you in the Meadow?”

 

“I’ll be there with bells on.”

 

Oh I hope not.

  
**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 11/11/16  
> Revised: 4/22/17  
> Revised 2: 4/24/17
> 
> And there’s some of Peeta’s backstory! We’ve been waiting to show you all this. We’ve had it planned for a while. So for all of you who’ve patiently waited to find out why Peeta is acting the way he is, here’s a taste. You’ll learn more as we go. The bread incident was really important in canon. Not just to Katniss, but to Peeta as well. Again, you’ll get more later, this time in Peeta’s own words.
> 
> We’ve had plans for Peeta to have another girlfriend other than Katniss for a long time. We’re glad to finally introduce her. It’s hard as Everlark fans to not write the significant others as evil. Nata isn’t.
> 
> Things we Randomized:  
> \-- Nothing this chapter!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!
> 
> Curious about what else we’re doing? Check out our original writing under the name Christina Rose Andrews on tumblr, twitter, and facebook. Or go to our author page to check out our books! The Language of Flowers, our first novel, comes out on May 1, 2017. You can pre-order it right now for only 99 cents. http://amzn.to/2oJtUvZ


	12. Unorthodox Way of Succeeding

Last Time in  ** Damaged, Broken, and Unhinged: **

 

_ “So does seven work?” _

 

_ Peeta nods.  “I’ll be up then anyways.”  He smiles.  “Baker’s hours.” _

 

_ “Meet you in the Meadow?” _

 

_ “I’ll be there with bells on.” _

 

_ Oh I hope not. _

 

**oOo**

 

Chapter Twelve: Unorthodox Way of Succeeding

 

**oOo**

 

_ “You owe it to yourself to find your own unorthodox way of succeeding, or sometimes, just surviving.” _

_ ― Michael Johnson _

 

**oOo**

 

The sun hasn’t risen when Peeta knocks at my door.  In his hands are two steaming rolls, fresh from the bakery.  The smell of cinnamon and sugar teases my senses, and it takes all of my self-control not to snatch the rolls from his hands and gobble them down.

 

As if aware of my desire, Peeta’s eyes crinkle up at the corners and he motions to a bag on his belt.  “I’ve got our breakfast in here.  These are for Prim and Aven.” 

 

A rush of gratitude washes over me, and I hand him a thermos in trade.  Inside is a meaty broth made from the bones of my last kill.  I’ve got another thermos of wintergreen tea.  Even though the weather isn’t as bitterly cold, there’s still a chill in the air and snow on the ground. 

 

Wrapping up Peeta’s presents in a towel, I quickly dash off a note to Prim before grabbing my hunting bag and slipping a knife into the pocket of my coat.  

 

Peeta raises an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything.

 

I explain anyway.  “It’s never a good idea to go out into the woods unarmed.”

 

“I’ll remember that for next time.”

 

I warm a little at his words.  There’s going to be a next time.

 

Motioning for him to keep quiet until we’ve cleared the line of houses, I lead him through the Seam quickly.  Ever since the attack, I don’t trust my neighbors to keep their mouths shut. Or at all really. All it would take is one word in the wrong person’s ear and my hunting days would be over.

 

When we reach the Meadow, I let out a sigh of relief.

 

Peeta notices.  “Is something wrong?”

 

“Kind of,” I answer, my eyes darting to and fro.  “Let’s wait until we’re on the other side of the fence.”

 

He gives me a look but doesn’t press.  Good.  Because we’re almost at the fence.

 

When we get there, I show him how to listen for electricity running through the wires: a sound that’s somewhere between the buzzing of a bee and the hum of a television set right before it turns on for Mandatory Viewing.  I try to hum out the frequency as best I can. 

 

He seems to understand.

 

As usual, the fence isn’t on.  Moving down a few yards, I lead him to the loose section where Prim and I slip under the fence.  It’s a tight fit. Peeta’s broader and bulkier than either Prim or myself, but he makes it.  Once we’re in the woods, I show him how to pick out animal tracks in the snow.  A rabbit here.  A squirrel there.  Someone’s cat.  A wild dog.  In a few spots near well-traveled trails, I pause to set a snare.

 

“Will you show me how to do that?” Peeta asks, motioning to it.

 

“Later I’ll have you practice tying knots,” I tell him while positioning a few twigs.  “But first you need to learn how to identify game trails.  Besides, it’s better to learn how to tie a knot someplace warm than out here where you can freeze your fingers off.”  I pull my mittens on for emphasis.

 

“That’s a good point.”

 

I lead him to the hollow log where I hide my bow and push off the last of the snow, then motion for him to sit down.  

 

“Breakfast?” he asks.

 

“Definitely.”

 

With a smile, he pulls out two rolls wrapped in cloth and hands them to me before fishing a second package out of his pouch.  Unwrapping the treasure, I discover not only the cinnamon roll he’d showed me earlier but also a slightly burnt cheese bun. My mouth waters and I can’t resist any longer.  I pick up the roll and bite into it.  Cinnamon and sugar dance over my tongue.  Even better, it’s still warm inside.  I haven’t tasted anything as good in weeks.  Not since Peeta’s tesserae bread.  I lean my head back in pleasure, letting out a low moan.

 

“You like?”

 

I nod, taking another bite.

 

“Good.”

 

A twinge of guilt threads through me, and I swallow.  “How are you able to afford giving us these?”

 

He holds up the cinnamon roll.  “These?  They’re experiments.  No icing.  No nuts.  Baking soda instead of yeast.”  He pokes at it.  “I don’t know if you can tell, but it’s not as fluffy as the usual ones.”

 

I couldn’t tell.  “So why are you experimenting?  What’s wrong with the old recipe?”

 

“It’s more labor intensive for one.  More expensive for two.  And with Johnny leaving in June, we won’t have the manpower to make a lot of recipes the old ways. Or if we hire someone, we won’t have the money to create as many expensive recipes that may or may not sell.” 

 

It makes sense.  “So I’m your test subject?”

 

“Yep.  Do you mind?”

 

I shake my head and take another bite, this time focusing on the tastes and flavors.  “It’s good.  I’d buy them.”

 

“You don’t think they’re dry?  Mom thought they were dry.”

 

“It could use a glaze.  Not a lot.  But something...” I trail off, unsure.  Food is food.  Fuel. It doesn’t matter what it tastes like.  Not anymore.  Once it did, before my father got sick. We used to do ‘family feasts’ where my parents would save up for a special meal with real butcher meat and bakery bread.  Most of the time we’d celebrate surviving through another Reaping Day or the New Year.  But after my father got sick, we didn’t put a lot of thought into food, other than trying to make sure we didn’t starve.  

 

We sit in silence for a few minutes finishing our breakfast before Peeta clears his throat.  “So… now can you tell me what’s wrong?  Why you really wanted to see me out here?”

 

Damn!  I was hoping he wouldn’t ask.  No point hiding it now.  “I owe you an apology,” I start, noticing his eyes widen at my words.  “You were right about Darius.”

 

“Has he--”  Peeta’s voice is hard.

 

“No,” I cut him off.  “He hasn’t done anything.  But he’d like to.” I stare into my lap, picking at the crumbs.  “Did you know Peacekeepers aren’t allowed to marry?  At least not until they finish their tour of duty.  But they are allowed to have companions.”

 

Peeta looks confused at my non-sequitur.

 

“Darius wants me to be his companion.”

 

His face darkens.

 

I hurry on before Peeta can say anything.  “It’s more than just sex.  He wants me to be his wife in everything but name.  And he’s willing to pay me for it.  You know,” I voice the thoughts I’ve been keeping to myself, “I think if he could, Darius would marry me for real.  I think the business arrangement’s the only way the Capitol will tolerate fraternization between Peacekeepers and District folk.”

 

“How do you know that?”  His tone is carefully neutral.  Non-judgmental. 

 

“He gave me something personal of his.  Something from his life in Four.”  I finger the necklace around my neck.  It’s become a hassle to take it off and on all the time so I’ve started to just leave it.  Not to mention, Aven’s fascinated by the piece of jewelry and I don’t want to wake up and find it missing because my little brother’s hidden it.  

 

“The necklace?”

 

I look at him surprised.  “How’d you guess?”

 

“You’ve been playing with it all week.  Of course I noticed.” He says it like I should know better.  “So he loves you?”

 

“Yeah, I think so.”

 

“But?” Peeta prompts.

 

“But I don’t know.”  I stare up at the bright blue winter sky through the bare branches of the trees.  “I just don’t love him.  Not yet.  Maybe not ever.  I feel like I should accept his offer. For Prim. For Aven. For my mother.  It’s a lot of money, a lot more than I make hunting.  But…”

 

“You don’t want to.”

 

“No, I don’t.”

 

“So tell him no.”

 

“It’s not that easy.”  If it were I would have said ‘no’ long before talking to Peeta about it.  “It’s a good offer, a real offer.  And if I can’t find some other way to support my family, I’ll take it.”

 

“So find another way!”

 

“Like what?” I’ve tried to think of other solutions.  I can’t come up with anything that’s more stable or reliable.  

 

Peeta thinks about it, really thinks about it.  His shoulders hunched in on themselves, his hands clenching and unclenching.  “Have you… have you thought about getting married?”

 

The question takes me aback.  I haven’t considered the option.  I could.  Technically, marriage is just another contract in Panem.  I’ve been able to get married since I was twelve, not that anyone ever does.  You don’t qualify for housing or most government sanctioned jobs like those in the mines until after your last Reaping.  But it is an option.

 

“Who?” I ask.  

 

Peeta shrugs.  “I don’t know, someone.”

 

“I don’t want to marry someone I don’t love.”  I’m enough of a romantic that I want there to be some affection between me and my husband.  And I’m not sure any husband would be willing to take on three extra mouths just to have me.  

 

“I’m just... throwing it out there.”  He sighs.  “I suppose you’ve already looked for another job.”

 

“I’ve thought about it.”

 

“Thinking isn’t doing.”

 

“The question is what.  And where.”  I open the thermos and take a sip of wintergreen tea. “The mines won’t take me, and I can’t afford to buy the permit to drop out of school anyway.  I’m not the healer that my mom was.  Is,” I correct swiftly.  “Not to mention, who would trust a teenage healer?  I don’t have enough to start a stall at the Hob.  Maybe come spring and summer, if we can catch enough, I could do it, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it ‘til then.”

 

“And my tesserae isn’t enough.”  It isn’t a question.

 

I shake my head, not wanting to voice the words aloud.  “If it makes you feel any better, if we didn’t have your tesserae, I would’ve said yes to Darius’s offer long ago.  Or I would’ve ended up going back to Cray.”

 

He nods, acknowledging my words.  “Have you tried in town?”

 

“Tried what in town?”

 

“Selling things.  You know, like, selling stuff to the butcher.  And the furrier.  Or maybe getting flowers or seeds for the florist.  Or herbs and spices for the confectioners or the apothecary.”  It’s what Prim suggested.  And it’ll work, to some degree.  But not entirely.

 

“I do that already.  Besides, the apothecary won’t even talk to me.”

 

He seems surprised.  “But aren’t they family?”

 

“Yeah, but every time I’ve tried to sell them anything or even talk to them, I get nasty looks or screamed at.”

 

Peeta frowns.  “I’ll talk to my brother.  See if there’s anything he can do to help.”

 

“Thanks,” I say.  But I don’t hold out much hope.  Even if they did start trading with me, it wouldn’t be enough.  And it wouldn’t be a job.  But sitting here talking isn’t going to solve my problems.  Hunting might.

 

Standing up, I brush my pants off and turn to face him.  “So… ready for me to teach you how to track?”

 

Peeta mimics my actions.  “Absolutely.”

 

For the next hour, I show him the different kinds of tracks to be found.  The cloven hoof of a deer compared to the larger four-toed paw prints of a wild dog.  The small hand-like shapes of a racoon and the even smaller tracks of rabbits and squirrels.

 

I make no attempt to tell Peeta to walk quieter.  He winces every time he steps on a buried twig or brushes a nearby branch.  He knows how much noise he’s making.  I don’t need to point it out. 

 

In fact, it’s Peeta’s heavy footsteps that net us our lone prize: a single squirrel who pops its head out of its nest to chitter angrily at us.  In an instant, my arrow flies, spearing it through the eye.  The following instant the animal falls to the ground, dead.

 

Peeta stares at it, then me.  “That was amazing!  I’ve never seen anything like it!  The way you moved,” he pantomimed the motions, “so quickly, so sure, it was like… a dance!  You’re gonna teach me to shoot like that, right?”

 

A smile creeps across my lips.  “That’s what we traded for.”

 

“If you can teach me to shoot like that, I definitely got the better deal.”

 

I struggle to keep from blushing.  I don’t want Peeta to know how much effect his words have on me.  To cover my embarrassment, I pick up the squirrel, salvaging my arrow in the process, and put it in my game bag.  Turning to him, I cock my head and say, “So.  You and Nata?”

 

“Yup, me and Nata.”

 

“You like her.”  It’s halfway between a question and a statement.

 

“She’s alright,” Peeta says with a shrug of his shoulders.  “She’s sweet.  And… my parents like her.”  He scuffs his foot a bit in the snow.  “Besides, I know how she feels about me.”

 

The flush I’d managed to tamp down flares up with a vengeance.  “I’m sorry.”

 

“Don’t be.  I’m the one that should be apologizing to you, not you to me.”  He looks up, meeting my eyes.  “I made assumptions.  About you.  About me.  I insulted you.  Not just the names I called you, but I insulted your ability.  I mean, I just got a demonstration of just how self-sufficient you are.  I guess what I’m saying is, I shouldn’t have said that.  Any of it.”

 

I stare at him in shock.  He’s right.  His earlier apology wasn’t quite good enough, because he didn’t seem to understand why I was so angry.  I think he gets it now.  And maybe, just maybe, we’re back on track to having a real friendship.

 

I smile at him, letting him know I accept his apology.  “I’m glad you and Nata are together.”

 

“You are?”

 

“Yeah.  I want my friends to be happy, and if she makes you happy, then I’m happy.”

 

“Okay…”

 

“Fair warning, though.”

 

He lifts an eyebrow.

 

“We Seam brats are protective of our friends.  If she hurts you, well…”  I trail off, letting him draw his own conclusions.

 

A mischievous glint appears in his eyes. “You’re saying that you’ll do to her what Prim threatened to do to me?”

 

That’s news.  I didn’t realize my sister had threatened Peeta.  “I don’t know what Prim said to you, but if she breaks your heart, I guess I’ll just have to break something of hers.”

 

“I think that’s quite possibly the sweetest thing any friend has ever said to me.”

 

I grin.  “C’mon.  Let’s head back.  After all, you’ve got a date.”

 

His eyes grow hooded for an instant.  If I hadn’t been looking right at him, I’m not sure I would’ve seen it.

 

“That’s right.  I do.”

 

**oOo**

 

The following morning, Prim and I head out into the woods.  It’s a contrast to hunting with Peeta; Prim already knows how to hunt, how to be quiet.  Even at just twelve years old, she’s more skilled than Peeta by a long shot.

 

My little sister is intent, driven even, to kill something.  She stalks silently through the forest, and when her eyes light upon the tracks of a wild dog, she doesn’t hesitate.

 

I try to stop her.  Predators are dangerous, especially this time of year.  But Prim won’t have any of it.

 

“Meat is meat, Katniss,” she tells me.  “And even if we won’t use it, Sae will.”

 

She’s got a point.  Sae’s been hounding me for any kind of meat I can sell her, and coin’s coin.

 

I stop pushing.  Instead, I make sure Prim doesn’t end up over her head.  One wild dog, she can handle.  A whole pack would be too much.  We’re lucky the dog we’ve been tracking seems to be a loner.  I haven’t spotted any other tracks, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t any.  

 

Eventually we find the animal, a large male.  He growls at us, but that’s as far as we let it go.  Prim and I loose our arrows into the canine, and it falls to the ground, dead.  

 

On our way back to the fence, we startle a turkey who’d been feeding on some exposed partridge berry.  My arrow is in the air before the bird can even attempt to flee.  For good measure, I harvest the exposed berries.  No point letting them go to waste.

 

I’m glad we’ve had such good luck hunting because our snares come up empty.  Or rather, it looks like whatever kills we got were stolen by scavengers.  From the tracks on the ground, it’s probably a fox.  I frown.  I’ll need to find a new place to set my snares.  Which is easier said than done.  Gale’s staked out the best trapping spots and the last thing i want to do is get into a pissing match with my ex.

 

Heading back into town, Prim and I stop at the Hob first.  I let Prim barter with Sae while I go from stall to stall talking with the owners to see about getting a job there.  There’s a few places that would be willing to hire me on: the leather goods stall, one of the Lindens’ competitors, and Ripper.  But none of them would be able to take me full-time or pay me enough to live on.  In the case of the second-hand goods dealer, I’d probably make more hunting and gathering than I would working for them.  It’s hard not to feel discouraged.  I wonder if more people would be willing to help if I hadn’t been seen with Darius and Cray.

 

Speaking of Cray, my next stop is at his house.  I know he’ll pay well for the turkey, and I need to stay on his good side.  Especially if I end up turning down Darius’s offer.  

 

Cray’s eyes up light up when he sees the dead bird.  It’s been so long since he’s had a turkey that he’s willing to pay me thirteen coin for it, and an extra two coin if I stay and prepare it for him.  That makes it even more worth it.  I’m familiar with Cray’s kitchen from a few weeks ago, so cooking the bird is easy.

 

While I work, Cray does paperwork.  I wish the Head Peacekeeper needed a housekeeper full-time.  I wouldn’t mind working for him.  

 

But that gives me an idea.

 

I clear my throat once the bird’s in the oven.

 

He looks up at me, his pen still held in his hand.  “Something you want, girl?”

 

“I was wondering if you knew of anybody who needed a housekeeper, or if you did.”

 

He sets the pen down.  “Why are you asking?”

 

I’m glad I have an excuse at the ready.  “My mom’s been sick a lot this winter, so she hasn’t been able to work as much.  And now that my father’s gone… I gotta do what I can to help out.”  I let him draw his own conclusions.  It explains why I came to him in the first place and why I’ve kept coming to him.

 

Cray regards me for a very long time and I struggle not to squirm under his gaze.  Finally, he pulls out a scrap of paper and scribbles on it.  “While I don’t need a housekeeper, these are all the people I know who could.  It’d be between you and them as to what your actual duties will be.”  I understand what he’s saying and not saying.  

 

I take the list, scanning the names.  Every single name on it is a Peacekeeper.  And at the very end, almost illegible, is Darius’s.

 

My heart sinks.  

 

Now what?

 

**oOo**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:  
> Written: 1/21/18  
> Revised: 2/5/18
> 
> Katniss legally could get a job, but most businesses won’t hire people until they’re out of the Reaping, because it’s not worth training someone who might be Reaped. Especially since the people desperate enough to need jobs as teens are the people who are taking tesserae...which increases their chances. It’s a catch-22. 
> 
> Also, just like in the modern US, school is mandatory unless you have extenuating circumstances. But extenuating circumstances pretty much means you’re so sick you can’t go to school, you’re a Victor, or you’ve paid for the privilege of not going to school. Again, most businesses aren’t willing to pay for that, especially for kids who aren’t heirs.
> 
> Things we Randomized:  
> \-- Who caught/snared what animals
> 
> Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!
> 
> So we’re sorry this chapter took so long. We’ve been focused on original writing, but we’re not giving this up. But we’ve put out a couple of books and some stories over the last year, so if you like our writing, check those out!
> 
> You can get more information about our original works here:  
> Website: https://www.roselarkpublishing.com/
> 
> Until next time! Thanks for reading! Let us know what you think!


End file.
